Fallen Angels, Saving Grace
by Sensara
Summary: She was dying in the desert, he needed purpose. He was lonely, she pined for another man. Could she learn to live in a different world than the one she knew? Could he learn to love again? Follows Yuris from "Stigma", season 2, in the wake of his confession that he is a melder. Eventual romance if I'm inclined, some chapters may be M, rated T for safety.
1. The Girl

_**Disclaimer: All property to its rightful owners. Do you honestly think I own this amazing stuff? Les Mis ain't mine, Star Trek: Enterprise ain't mine...so no, I own nothing but the crazy idea to cross these two.**_

_**You need to go watch "Stigma" from Enterprise season 2 before reading this story. All three of the Vulcan doctors have been mentioned in my stories, or have gotten a story dedicated to them. But what about poor old Yuris? Well, *rubs hands wickedly* I came up with a story for him too.**_

_Vulcan's Forge, August 10, 2152_

One foot in front of the other, on and on along the top of the sand dune. Here in the desert, there were no hearings, no dismissals, no accusatory stares. There was nothing but the cleansing heat and the whistling wind. It was a contemplative place, and it was little wonder so many of his people sought out the Forge to meditate when things got to be too much. Here, on the path Surak himself walked when seeking enlightenment, he too would walk, and perhaps along the way he could find the answer.

_There is nothing abhorrent about the way we lead our lives. _He started with that sentence, turned it over in his mind, and decided it was logically sound. After all, he could not change who he was. He could not wish away this ability, or think it away, or meditate it into oblivion. He was stuck with it, and instead of having the ability manifest itself when he least expected it, he had learned from others about how to harness it, tame it, use it not to violate, but to connect on a deeper level with those who knew the truth. There was nothing abhorrent about the way he led his life. He was not abhorrent.

And yet, he could not shake the shame of his dismissal. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he was not abhorrent, other voices whispered in his ear that he was worthless, a mutant, a freak, a monster.

_It is illogical to succumb to insecurities_. And yet that statement did not dispel the insecurities inside him. Strom had been kind and made sure he had everything he needed, but what he needed was some peace of mind. And in the desert place, the hottest fire where the Vulcan soul was tested and tempered, he was determined to find it.

The blazing sun dipped down further toward the distant horizon, but even though evening would be here within the hour, a slight haze hung in the air. The sky was always lovely at evening as the sun set, turning from dusty brown to faded purple to light pink to dull red, a kaleidoscope of colors in the space of a few minutes. It put his mind as ease to watch the sun set on another day, and however illogical the sentiment was, it always gave him hope to think there was another day ahead, another day to live and breath and learn and grow.

He sighed and continued along the sand dune, and he spied a system of caves off in the distance. He headed for them, as he would need to find shelter for the night lest he become food for a wild _sehlat_. His life was in shambles, but he had no desire to end it. There was perhaps some task he could do in this world, in this universe. Strange, it was as if he had been called here by some unknown force, a higher power, something ancient and powerful. For the first time since he had defended his position before the High Command and had been dismissed, he felt a sense of purpose in his life. _Purpose_.

The wind picked up and he sniffed the air, and listened for the telltale noises of oncoming sandstorm. Everything was silent save the wind, which whistled and sighed in his ear. This was a peaceful place when it wasn't too hot, perfect for introspection.

He sniffed again and frowned slightly. The air smelled wet, musty, almost rotten, and he instinctively wrinkled his nose. He supposed some creature had died nearby and their rotting corpse was giving off the unpleasant odor, but he could not risk dehydration by breathing through his mouth. He would have to bear the smell.

That odor was likely to draw the attention of the locals, so it was best to find shelter for the night and eat a little, then sleep and continue his journey in the morning when the creature's bones had been picked clean and there was nothing left to feed off of.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied movement, and he looked down at the bottom of the sand dune and scoured the lowland for signs of life. A fellow traveler, perhaps? Or deadly beast? The thing moved again, collapsing on the ground, and he realized the figure was humanoid.

He acted quickly, tossing aside his pack and sliding as quietly as he could down the bank, skidding to a halt as he reached the person. He knelt down beside them and rolled them onto their back, listening intently for their breathing and for footfalls of hungry predators. He looked up, scanning the vicinity, then back down at the person. He frowned.

Her face was covered in dirt and grime, and her hair was slightly matted, certainly tangled and greasy and dirty. In fact, all of her seemed to be dirty, her clothes, her skin, her hair. Whence came this poor child? How did she manage to get into the Forge? Furthermore, how had she survived this long without collapsing from heat stroke, exhaustion, dehydration or a mix of all three? How had she avoided the wildlife for so long?

He sniffed the air and realized the wet, rotten smell was no longer hanging in the air. The smell of the desert had reclaimed his nostrils, dry and crisp and slightly charged with electricity. Looking once more down at the girl, he examined her clothes with confusion. She had donned a long, ragged skirt dotted with holes and poorly-darned patches, and her shirt was much to big for her, as was her coat. Who wore a coat into the Forge? A naïve young girl who had visited Vulcan for some purpose and had run away from the capital? It mattered little how she got here, what mattered was what happened next.

He worked his arms under her and hurried back up the sand dune before the _sehlats _spied easy pickings, and once he was to the top, he set her down, hoisted his pack over his shoulder once more, and lifted his extra burden, quickening his pace and making for the caverns in the distance.

…

One foot in front of the other, on and on along the bottom of the pit. Here in the desert, in this hellhole, there was no water or cool air or wet wind tinged with the taste of rain. There was only boiling heat and serrated rocks that reflected said heat back into the ravine. _Surely this is hell_, she thought to herself. The sand picked up with the wind and blew around her, cutting her skin like tiny, jagged shards of glass. It felt as if she had been walking for days, but it had only been a few hours ago that she had woken up to the hellish sun and the cry of a wild beast. She had immediately awoken and begun to run, thinking this was some nightmare until she tripped over the rocks and landed flat on her face. The burning sands had scorched her skin, and she had cried out, her voice echoing eerily along the canyon walls.

Reality had since been pressing in on every sense, every nerve in her body, and yet reality was slipping away from her minute by minute. She raised a trembling hand and felt her cheeks, and they were hot and dry. She was no longer sweating enough to fill the River Seine, and her mouth felt like it was filled with the sands crunching beneath her feet. It was torture to walk on the sand barefooted, so she had sacrificed her mother's thin cotton shawl, tearing it in half on a nearby outcropping of rock and wrapping it around her scorched feet. It made walking on the burning desert floor tolerable...for a while. The sand was so hot, the heat pierced the thin cotton within a quarter of an hour, and she was once again walking in hellfire, drowning in the heat.

The sun began to dip down to the horizon, and she wondered what the night would bring. The seemingly endless stretch of land before her seemed to shimmer in the heat, and the landmarks wavered. She felt dizzy, light-headed, and she stumbled wildly out of the ravine, out into an endless expanse of sand dunes. There was shade to be found, but her senses, her impulses were slipping from her, fading into blackness. She heard a loud buzzing in her ear, and she could hardly breathe. Every breath she took in only dried out her mouth further, coating it with sand and dirt. Her skin was red as blood, blistering in the sweltering heat, and she finally collapsed at the foot of a sand dune, ready for the end.

_Take me now, Lord. _Her father and mother were anything but religious, only putting up a facade of morality for the benefit of their peers, but now, in the deadly heat that was quickly sapping what little energy she had left, she called out to the Lord in her mind, desperate for anything, anything to relieve her suffering. _Take me now, and end this hell._

She collapsed fully on the ground, no longer caring that the sand was burning her already-scorched skin. It no longer mattered. She wanted to die, and die quickly, and if the sand burned away her flesh, set her on fire until there was nothing left of her but bones, so be it. Anything to end this torment.

Darkness crept in on the edges of her vision, and her eyelids drooped in exhaustion. She thought she heard running water, a hush like the waters of the Seine, and she closed her eyes fully, praying that the Lord had heard her plea and was taking her away from this place. Or perhaps this really was hell, and the sound of water was only temptation, a ruse to torment her further. Or perhaps it was only the wind...

The sound ceased, and she heard something thud softly to the ground. She was suddenly gripped with fear, remembering the cries of the wild beasts that she had awoken to a few hours ago. If it was some wild creature here to consume her flesh, she only hoped it would kill her quickly, bite into the flesh of her throat first and end her misery.

She was turned onto her back by gentle hands, and after several seconds of nothing, she felt herself lifted by strong, masculine arms. She sighed and let the darkness consume her vision completely, handing herself over to the exhaustion that sapped her being of life. It mattered little what happened now. Her life had been nothing but slow torment from the day her family had come to Paris, and her life was about to end in flames. Strange, most of her existence, she had been freezing cold, but her life would end in broiling heat...how ironic...

She blacked out, finally dead to her senses, dead to the world, and the torment ended in blissful release.


	2. The Cave

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Fameanon and maba7x (he is quite attractive, ain't he?) for reviewing!**_

The Forge was dotted with caverns and half-hidden ravines as the landscape changed from endless sand dunes to rockier terrain. He found such a cave, facing away from the arc of the sun, and he entered after visually scanning for any other inhabitants and listening for breathing or claws on the stone floor.

The floor of the cave wasn't exceptionally comfortable, but he pulled out his sleeping roll and spread it on the sand-strewn floor, then laid his charge on the thin mat. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until he could get her to his home or to a hospital.

He had water in his pack, and he took it out, unscrewed the durable plastic cap, and dabbed some on her forehead to cool her for now. He needed her conscious to give her drink, else she might choke.

As he waited for her to awake, he dabbed water on her lips, and stroked her dark hair, brushing it away from her neck. Her hair was long and tangled and matted with dirt, and he wandered where on Earth she could have gotten so dirty. Earth proclaimed that all its citizens were above the state of poverty, and yet he could see her ribs under her flesh. She was malnourished, covered in dirt and grime, and her hair looked like it had not been washed in months. Was she neglected at home? Was she trying to escape from something, or had she run away from home to escape abuse? Indeed, he found abrasions and bruises all over her body as he removed her jacket and unbuttoned the shirt to let her skin breathe, and her condition had not been helped by her trek through the Forge. Her skin was red from the sun, blistering from the heat; her skin was no longer sweaty like it should be. Her internal body temperature had been overheated, and now there was a good chance she would die. She most certainly would have died if he had not come along.

She stirred slightly, and he could feel her racing pulse slow little by little back to normal. Her breathing eased, but her skin still felt hot and dry. She needed to sweat, needed to release the heat inside of her, and she needed to replenish the fluids she had lost. He needed her awake.

He got his wish just as he was about to shake her awake, and he saw her slowly open her eyes. They were unfocused and filled with fear, but he spoke softly to her and stroked her hair, trying to convey calm and reassurance through his touch.

"Drink this, slowly," he whispered, holding the bottle to her lips. He lifted her head with one hand and tilted the bottle to let the precious water flow into her mouth, and she drank a few greedy gulps until he made her stop and lie back down.

"I'll give you more in a minute," he said, his tone benign, placid. He needed to stay calm despite the danger she was in. He had been trained to stay calm, to project an air of mild geniality, and he supposed it was in his nature to be kind to others. He always found satisfaction and peace in helping others, and he felt a surge of the purpose he had been craving for a month now.

She frowned in confusion up at him, and her eyes roamed erratically over his face, finally settling on his ears. Her eyes widened in fear, and she cringed, stiffening as he reached out to touch her shoulder, as he whispered that he would not harm her. She babbled in some language he did not know, and he frowned, wondering why she was not speaking English. He could manage a conversation in Earth's official language, enough to tell a potential patient that he was there to help and what he was doing to help, and to ask and understand what was wrong with them, but she did not babble in English. This was not a language he comprehended, and he assumed, for the moment, that she was incoherent and would return to normal when her head had cleared.

_Heat stroke. _He knew her condition was a risk for all humans (and careless Vulcans) living on the planet, and it seems she had succumbed to it. Considering her malnourished state, her lack of preparation (she had no food or water, only the clothes on her back), and the extreme heat of the Forge, it did not surprise him that she had given in. He was surprised, however, that she had survived this long, and the fact that she was still alive (though perhaps hallucinating and delirious) gave him hope.

She was unconscious again, sleeping fitfully under his watchful gaze, and as she slept in fever, he contemplated his next move. He needed to get to his home or to a hospital as soon as possible; he needed a saline and sugar solution to give her through intravenous means to rehydrate her quickly. She had lost so many fluids from her trek, and probably wasn't fit to do much strenuous activity due to her malnourished state. He had enough money in his account to last six months before he would desperately need a job to provide for himself.

He had the space in his home to house her. His wife had promptly left him when she found out his "deviant status", and their bond had never been strong. He had attempted to make it stronger, but she never seemed that interested in him. The harshest thing she had said to him was that she had always suspected he was hiding something from her and didn't want anything to do with a mutant like him. She had married a doctor in their province, and he hoped she was content now.

Due to her disinterest, she never wanted to share a bed with him. She had her own room, where she meditated and read, and when she wasn't in there, she was at work, doing statistical research for medical papers, magazines and symposiums around the planet. So he would have a place to put this girl. He even had his wife's old clothes to give her, since the ragged garb she had on now probably needed to be burned. He thought he had seen an insect or two crawling in the folds of her skirt, but it did not disgust him. It saddened him, horrified him. Who let their daughter wear bug-ridden clothing?

He searched through his pack and found a spare set of clothes, a plain, breathable shirt and some trousers. They were too big and too long for her, but he had also packed a pair of night trousers. They had a tie and could be fitted to her hips (which were far too small, in his opinion), and he immediately set about taking off her clothes.

It was a stroke of misfortune that she chose this time to wake up, and she saw him tugging her skirt down her legs and immediately stiffened, clawing at him, kicking her legs and screaming. He held up his hands in non-resistance and held up his trousers, but she still looked at him like he might hurt her. Perhaps he had been insensitive in how he went about changing her clothes, but still, her fear saddened him. He turned his back on her and let her readjust her clothes, and he did not turn around, simply listened to her lay back down (she probably could not stay upright for long; she was too weak), and he set about making a fire and getting something for her to eat, as night was falling fast.

He heated up a travel pack of _plomeek_ broth, keeping his back to her, not daring to look at her until he heard her breathing soften. She had gone back to sleep, then, and he turned and glanced over at her. Her eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking from the corners, and he reached over and gently wiped them away.

With his fingers in contact with her skin (he hadn't even thought to put up mental barriers), he caught a glimpse of her dream.

_A man crushing her to a wall, black beady eyes boring into her, grunting, panting with effort, running his disgusting tongue over her neck..._

He quickly withdrew his hand and turned back to his work, stirring the broth so it could fully hydrate. He decided how he would go about changing her clothes (as she, for some reason, had no undergarments on. He could feel the tips of his ears grow warm at the thought), and while the _plomeek_ heated up, he grabbed the night trousers and tugged them onto her slender legs, then swiftly and efficiently removed the ratty skirt. He tossed it aside, then slipped her skirt off her skin (he saw a few beads of sweat, a good sign) and averted his eyes from her rosy breasts as he pulled the shirt over her head. She woke up again just as he pulled the hem down to her concave stomach, and was about to protest physically until he stepped back away from her and turned to the small pot on the fire.

He dosed out some broth into a bowl and withdrew a spoon from his pack, then sat beside her. He set the hot broth on the cave floor so it could cool for a moment, then carefully lifted her head onto his knee. He stroked her hair to reassure her, not sure how else to communicate, as she was still asking him things in that language. He picked up the broth, ladled up a spoonful, blew on it, then held it to her lips.

She stared at him in confusion, but opened her mouth, her eyes fixed on him, and he fed her the broth until the bowl was empty. He fetched more and fed it to her, but he could still see distrust glimmering in her eyes.

She was still fearful of him when he finished feeding her, and he noted that her gaze was lingering on his ears. Perhaps that was why she feared him. She looked so young, so maybe she had never seen a Vulcan before. Before her condition improved and she was still suffering from heat stroke, perhaps she thought he was a hallucination, that his ears were simply a part of some disturbing visage. But alas, it was not the case. She continued to stare at him as he ladled himself the last of the broth and ate it, then cleaned the pot with a slightly moistened rag. He put things away and stoked the fire, then sat across the fire from her and watched her.

She had dark hair, but perhaps it was all the dirt and grime on her that made it dark. Her hair seemed to be some shade of brown, though, and at the moment it was tangled and matted, but he thought he spied a curl or two underneath all the ratty tangles. Her eyes were honey brown, a dark amber, and he thought them captivating. Her cheekbones and jawline were prominent from malnutrition, but her face was still striking, in a haunting sort of way.

She watched him with that haunted look on her face, and he realized he didn't even know her name. He approached her slowly, then knelt beside her. She shrunk away from him.

"Yuris," he said softly, pointing to himself. He pointed at her.

She frowned. "Yuris?"

He pointed to himself again. "Yuris." He pointed to her.

"Eponine."

Yuris offered her a very tiny smile, and he thought to himself that he had never heard such a beautiful name.

…

She awoke to her skirt being tugged down her legs, and she yelped, kicking and screaming at the creature above her. He looked like a man, but his ears tapered to a delicate point and his brows were slanted, foreboding. _So I am in hell_, she thought. This demon might have been sent to torment her personally. He might rape her, or torture her, or something far worse that she could not imagine at the moment.

But then he raised his arms and backed away from her, a contrite expression on his face, and she was confused. Why was the demon backing away? Why did he look like he was ashamed? Demons didn't feel shame, they possessed and tormented. They did the devil's work and brought souls into eternal damnation, casting poor souls into the flames, tending the furnaces of hell.

So why was this demon man turning away from her? Was he preparing some torture device for her? And why was she in a cave? Did hell even have caves? She always imagined it as some great plain of fire and ash and smoke, but perhaps the demons did the actual tormenting in caves.

Whatever he was doing, she had no strength to resist the darkness that consumed her vision again. She blacked out, and knew no more.

…

She awoke again, just as he tugged a clean shirt over her ribs and stomach, and once it was in place, he turned away toward the fire, stirring something in a small black pot. The cave actually smelled rather nice, and she felt a twinge of shame over wanting to kick him before fear settled back over her. What was in the pot? Would she starve to death? This was not what she imagined hell to be like.

He turned around with a bowl of whatever he was cooking in the pot, and he set it down on the cave floor, then gently lifted her head onto his knee. He picked up the bowl, ladled up a spoonful, blew on it to cool it, then held it to her lips.

If he were a demon, he would not have cooled the liquid for her. If he were a demon, he would have force-fed her boiling hot tar or some despicable substance. If he were a demon, he would not be gazing down at her with tenderness and sorrow in his eyes. She opened her mouth, her eyes fixed on his light green irises.

He gently fed her what tasted like some sort of broth, and he stroked her hair. She felt calmer, but now that she could think more clearly, now that she was awake, she still felt fear. Maybe this was all a ruse. She wasn't sure anymore.

He fetched her more, and the broth did taste heavenly (a dirty rag would have tasted heavenly, she was so hungry). He gently put her back on the mat, and she narrowed her eyes at his ears.

Perhaps she wasn't in Satan's fires. Maybe some strangers had kidnapped her and left her here to die, in some strange, foreign land where the inhabitants had pointed ears. She had heard sailors tell each other ghost stories about demons and savage peoples in far-off countries, and she supposed she was there.

Although she was still afraid, the notion of being kidnapped by pirates and left on the shores of some foreign land seemed rather whimsical and romantic. Suddenly, this all seemed like some grand adventure, worthy of a hearty tale or a song by a roaring fire in some inn back home. She felt a pang of homesickness, not for the ugly, cold flat in Paris, but for the good days in Montfermiel, when they had enough to eat, when Mama was nice, when they had pretty ribbons and dresses and a little bed to sleep in, instead of the ragged straw mat she and Azelma shared in the flat in Paris. She missed Azelma too, and wished with all her heart that her sister was here to share this adventure with her. New experiences were never quite as scary when someone was with you.

The man/demon had retreated to the other side of the fire and watched her with a sad gaze, and she decided then and there: he wasn't a demon. He was a foreigner, a strange person, but not a demon. So it stood to reason that she was not in hell.

He approached her slowly, and still she cringed, fear overtaking her again. _You can stop it, 'Ponine. Quit acting like a baby._

"Yuris," he said, pointing to himself. Was that his name? Was that what his people were called? He pointed to her, and she frowned.

"Yuris?" she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue. _Yuris_. That sounded like Marius, and she felt the familiar pangs of longing and heartsickness for him. He pointed to her again, and she understood what he wanted.

"Eponine."

His expression softened, but she could not sit up any longer. She laid back down, her eyes brimming with tears, and she turned away from the stranger called Yuris, crying herself to sleep, exhaustion overwhelming her once more.


	3. The Doctor

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon, makaem, maba7x, dinopoodle, Caren Rose, and T'Sara for reviewing! You are all amazing, thank you for the feedback!**_

_Gateway, Vulcan, August 11, 2152_

It took them half a day to get out of the desert place, and Yuris was proving to be a kind man...so far. The heat was making her sweat buckets, and there was something about this place that made her feel sluggish and weak, as if she was carrying invisible, heavy chains on her back. But Yuris did not push their pace and kept her shaded as best he could, keeping their path in the ravine to the shaded parts, and when they had to walk in the sun, he blocked it with his tall, strong body. They had set out in the early morning hours, when she was still groggy, but she interpreted through Yuris' sign language that it would get hot later on in the day, so starting early would be best.

The night had been cold, and some time in the middle of the night, she awoke to Yuris covering her with a blanket. It was taxing on her body to sweat so much and boil under the heat, and then freeze at night. And the sluggishness wasn't helping her energy levels either. But she consoled herself with the thought that each step she took with him was a step closer to relief, or so she assumed. She had been wrong before, and she did not know what would happen to her.

Finally, they climbed out of the ravine, and she sat on a nearby rock to rest a moment. He gave her another drink of water, almost as a reward for making it, but when she turned around and looked to what awaited her, her heart sunk. There was nothing but desert all around them, stretching for miles and miles around them. She felt his eyes on her and glanced up at him, asking a silent question. _Will we ever find refuge?_

She saw a tiny smile lift the corner of his lips, and he gestured down the hill, then walked on. She followed quickly, assuming there was something more to this place than desert, and when they rounded the corner at the bottom of the rather steep hill, she saw some sort of metal carriage waiting behind a rock. He tapped a few buttons on what looked like a door, and it opened; it was so strange to see a door open like a vertical trapdoor with hinges on the top. Yuris gestured inside, and she saw seating like in a fine carriage.

She hesitated for a moment, a sudden thought going through her mind that she had no way to repay him for this, but it seemed he was unconcerned with payment. He came forward and lightly took her arm, gently tugging her forward toward the carriage, and she relented, following him. _He must be very rich to own such a thing_, she thought to herself, and she settled in the far side of the seat, and he slid in beside her.

She clutched the seat beneath her as the carriage rumbled and shook, and she stared at him, looking for an explanation. He frowned at her, and his eyes flooded with what looked like compassion. He tapped a few buttons on a panel in front of him, and she looked out of the front window as the thing rose in the air. She cried out, forgetting herself, but she had never seen something like this before.

"Monsieur, what is this magic?" she cried, forgetting momentarily that he couldn't understand her. That tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth again, and he reached out and lightly touched her arm. She felt a rush of security and calm, and she relaxed back into the seat.

The thing flew over the ground, almost a hundred feet up in the air, and Eponine stared out of the window, absorbed in watching the desert go by. She watched as signs of civilization began to manifest themselves: a home built into a cliff here, an old road winding among the jagged rocks there. The air in the flying carriage was still hot, but it wasn't stifling like outside. Still, the air seemed thin and her lungs felt weak, and she dearly hoped she wasn't coming down with consumption. The deadly disease had attacked many a prostitute and gamine in the slums of Saint-Michel, and if she had it, her days were limited.

She glanced over at him and examined him again, some of the haze and dizziness from the night before cleared from her head. He still had pointed ears, as she had seen last night, and his eyebrows had a strange, almost severe angle to them, but otherwise he looked like a normal man. His jawline was strong and masculine, and his patrician nose fit his decidedly robust profile. His lips were slender, sculpted almost, and his eyes were a piercing shade of green in the growing sunlight.

He pressed a button on the panel and waited, and a voice came out of the box. Eponine gripped the seat with a firm hand and watched in fascination as he seemingly held a conversation with the box, whose voice was male, yet warm and comforting. Yuris' voice was calm and warm as well, and he spoke with a gentleness and softness she rarely heard in men's voices. Even Marius did not talk with such a tone, and his voice further reassured her. It seemed she might be going to some place far better than the slums, and she leaned back in the seat as Yuris ended his conversation with the box, and she smiled at him when he glanced at her. It was becoming a joy to see that gentle, tiny smile he gave her in return.

…

_Shi'Kahr, outskirts, August 11, 2152_

Yuris looked down at the street outside his small home and felt a flash of relief that Strom was already waiting for him. He could see his old colleague standing by his aircar, a medical kit and some other equipment in his hand. Yuris landed the aircar with practiced precision and turned it off, then turned to Eponine and helped her out of the car. He had noticed her eyelids drooping as they had entered Shi'Kahr, and he knew her time thus far on his planet must be exhausting her.

She stumbled slightly as she stepped out of the aircar, but he held up her arms and held her steady as she regained her balance. She frowned up at him and lightly pressed her hand to his forehead, and he understood after a moment's thought that perhaps she was concerned he might be feverish. He shook his head down at her and smiled slightly, gesturing toward the gate of his home. Strom fell in line beside him and gave him an inquiring look.

"You said she doesn't speak English?" Strom asked in Vulcan. Yuris nodded.

"She does not understand anything I say, though I'm sure she can interpret the general meaning of my actions. Did you bring the translator?"

Strom nodded and handed him the tiny mechanical device, and once they entered the coolness of his home, he turned to Eponine and stepped closer to her. He brushed her matted hair away from her rounded ear and put the device in the canal, then waited for her to adjust to it. She was frowning in confusion, but that confusion, he was sure, would be gone soon.

"Can you understand me now?" he asked gently. Her eyes widened further, and she lightly touched the device in her ear.

"How can you suddenly speak perfect French, monsieur? I couldn't understand you."

"A universal translator," he explained briefly. "We can understand each other's language. This is my...colleague, Strom."

She greeted him with a hasty curtsy, and Strom raised both eyebrows. "Monsieur, a pleasure to meet you."

"Strom, this is Eponine. What is your surname?"

"Jondrette," she said immediately, then bowed her head in apparent shame and shifted her weight onto the other foot. "My surname is Thenardier."

Strom frowned. "Why do you have two surnames, Ms. Thenardier?"

She looked him in the eye, a defiant spark in her honey brown eyes, but then the spark faded and she shifted her gaze to the floor. "I'd rather not say, monsieur."

"You are French, then?" Yuris said after a pause, having looked up Earth languages on the console in the corner. She nodded.

"I am from Monfermiel, but my family moved to Paris...the district Saint-Michel."

Strom quirked an eyebrow. "I have no knowledge of that district. How did you get into the Forge?"

She frowned, and Yuris interjected. "That is the name humans call the desert you and I were in."

Her frown deepened. "Are we not all human, monsieurs?"

Yuris directed a confused glance at Strom, whose eyes were glittering with disillusionment. The younger man turned back to Eponine.

"Ms. Thenardier, we are Vulcans. Have you not seen our kind before?"

She shook her head, her eyes widening. "No, never...why do you have pointed ears?"

Yuris shrugged. "Why do you have rounded ears? Is it how we are, Ms. Thenardier...did you not learn about us in school?"

She looked down at the floor again. "I did not go to school, monsieur...I...my family could not afford it."

Yuris frowned and glanced at Strom again, whose eyes were now burning in growing fury. "I thought Earth offered free education, at least up to secondary school, to all its citizens."

She frowned. "What Earth are you talking about, monsieur? A street waif like me," she said ruefully, "has no place in a classroom."

"Is that what you have been taught to think, Ms. Thenardier?" Yuris said, taking out his medical equipment. "You may stop that mode of thinking now. I will not stand for it in my house," he continued firmly. She looked up at him with a sad expression, and he could feel his soften.

"I am not worth such trouble, monsieur, I-"

"Hush," he admonished gently, running his scanner over her. She had an infection that, if left unchecked, could have killed her, and he gave her the treatment for it. He debated in his mind whether her cleanliness or her growing exhaustion was his main priority, and he decided that she might feel better if she were cleaned and allowed to sleep.

Bathing her was an interesting affair, and he kept his back turned to her most of the time, and only when she required help with her hair did he turn and look at her, not daring to allow his eyes to drift downward to her naked body. Once she was clean, he discovered that her hair was a lighter shade of brown than he thought originally, and he was fascinated to see faint red highlights streaked throughout her hair. With the dirt and grease removed, she looked less like a poor, neglected child and more like...more like a woman, he admitted to himself. Though her hips were thin and her ribs nearly poking out of her flesh, she looked old enough to be a woman. The horrors that laid in waiting behind her eyes were certainly not belonging to a child. Mentally, and in experience, she was a woman, even if her body was barely more than a child's.

He dressed her in some of his wife's old sleeping clothes and led her back to the living room, where Strom had already set up an IV drip. She flinched at the long, metal needle, but he shushed her and lightly stroked her still-damp hair as he inserted it into a vein in her arm, and he let the IV drip begin its work in her body. He secured the needle with medical tape, then stroked her hair, watching in satisfaction as her eyes began to droop, and soon she was fast asleep.

He stood and turned to Strom, who was staring at him with a calculating gaze. "You cared for her? In the Forge?"

"I thought I made that obvious. I did the best I could with the tools I had at hand," he said, glancing back at her sleeping form. She looked peaceful as she slept.

"You did well. She trusts you more than I." He glanced back down at the tricorder Yuris had set aside and frowned at the readings. "Strange..."

"What is it?"

He shook his head. "These readings are highly irregular. I'll take them to the laboratory and examine them further." He sighed and glanced at the girl as well. "How can she live, being so thin?"

"It seems she has gotten by on sheer will. She has defiance in her, something others have tried to stamp out..." He trailed off and glanced at Strom, who quirked an eyebrow. The doctor's blue eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Why, Yuris, surely you are not becoming attached to this young lady?" he teased lightly, but Yuris looked back down at Eponine with a sad gaze.

"Yuris?" Strom asked quietly, stepping a little closer. "Are you becoming attached to her?"

"Yes," Yuris said simply. "But do you blame me? I saved her in the desert, saved her from death, and I will not cease this until she is healthy again."

Strom blinked slowly. "You will not stop?"

Yuris sighed and sat down on the table between couches, and he folded his hands together as if for mediation. "I accidentally caught a glimpse of her dreams last night. They were...her life has not been easy. Her existence has been devoid of meaningful bonds...I felt this great well of loneliness and desperation in her...she needs more than medical treatment, Strom. She needs a protector."

He sat down beside Yuris and fixed him with a steady gaze, then looked at the girl. "If she were properly fed and cared for...already she looks rather...appealing. She is an agreeable female, for a human," he said with a shrug.

Yuris closed his eyes. "I know she has been through so much pain...is it so wrong for me to want to show her something better?"

"But what does that include, Yuris?"

Yuris let his gaze wander over her body, and it lingered sadly on her thin frame, her exposed ribs, her trembling hands. But it lingered rather greedily on her clean hair and fair skin, and already his mind was calculating the calories in everything he knew how to prepare, planning meals for her to make her gain weight as fast as was healthy. He would have to do more thorough research into the human body to find out more information, but he looked forward to it, looked forward to seeing the girl on his couch blossom into a beautiful flower. She had beauty in her, a human beauty of character and personality that still remained a mystery to him (and most Vulcans), and an outward beauty, a loveliness that only women possessed, which hopefully with time and proper nutrition would manifest itself.

He sighed. "I do not know. But...I want to find out," he said firmly.

Strom's eyes softened, and he nodded. "I will examine these scans, and we will be in touch, my friend."


	4. The Epiphany

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Caren Rose, Fameanon (and Strom and Yuris), maba7x, and dinopoodle for your reviews! You're all amazing!**_

_Shi'Kahr, outskirts, August 13, 2152_

Yuris looked up as Strom walked in the door, his arms laden with several PADDs. Eponine had been moved to his wife's room, where she was currently sleeping. She needed more sleep than two days could provide; the trek through the desert had been incredibly taxing on her body. Deep down inside him, he felt a bubble of pride that this young girl could survive the desert and so much torment. Her body would take a while to adjust to this new environment, and he wanted to make the transition as easy as possible for her.

Strom sat beside him on the couch and sighed heavily. His eyes were brimming with the look of a man burdened with secrets. Yuris knew the look quite well, as he had seen it so many times in himself when he happened upon a mirror in hotel rooms on far-distant planets. His old colleague's blue eyes lifted, their gazes locked, and Strom opened his mouth.

"I am...uncertain as to how to say this," he murmured, breaking Yuris' gaze quickly. Yuris leaned forward expectantly, anticipating the worst.

"Apparently...according to one of the greatest minds in the Vulcan Science Academy...she's not from this time."

Yuris stared blankly at his colleague for a few moments, then frowned, silently begging for clarification.

"They found some sort of temporal signature on her...from the scan I took of her. She is not from this time...her clothing...she herself dates back at least three hundred years."

Yuris raised his eyebrows, but frowned. This news stirred worry and wonder in him, but he cast out the worry and focused on the awe that was slowly filling him up, as if he were a bowl waiting for broth.

"She is from Paris...three hundred years in the past?"

Strom nodded. "She is from some place, and she is from a time long gone."

The two Vulcans sat in silence as the weight of that statement sunk into their minds. Yuris' mind was whirring with questions and worries. How would she adjust to this new time? Was her place here permanent? He was a doctor, not a physicist. Would she have to go back? Would she die here?

And what about the diseases that reigned in this other place, this other time? He immediately reached for his PADD and began researching that topic, and he transferred that information to Strom as soon as he got done scanning it.

"She will need to be vaccinated," Strom said once he saw what Yuris had sent him, "not only from these diseases, but from several others."

Yuris nodded. "I no longer have access-"

"I will handle it. The next order of business...until we know more, she will have to have identification. If she is from some other place, we will need to..."

"It is for her own good, Strom," Yuris pressed, understanding what Strom was getting at. They would have to hack the system and make a profile page for Eponine. "I don't think Earth authorities should get involved in this. In fact, I believe the less contact she has with humans, the better. Not only could she be carrying potential fatal diseases, but...we know so little about how time operates. Is it safe to re-introduce her into this time when she is clearly from another?"

Strom nodded. "I see the logic of your argument. Until we have further information, her contact with humans will be limited. But she still needs an identification card, if she is to travel anywhere outside this house. I know from my studies of their psychology that humans are not fond of confinement. They are not as...introspective as our people."

Yuris pondered it and nodded. "Could you?"

"I will," Strom replied with a solemn nod. "I will take her once she is able to stay on her own two feet...is she making a speedy recovery?"

"She is sleeping now," Yuris murmured. "The desert sapped her of her energy."

Strom sighed. "Humans, apparently, were not meant to live on our world."

"They are adaptable," he countered. "And yet my better judgment tells me that this is not the place for her."

"Trying to recover one's strength and fight the gravity and heat of our home is not conducive to good health," Strom agreed. "You may have to take her off-planet...I will do some research into possible locations for you to live until she is better."

Yuris smiled ever so slightly. "You are better than a brother, Strom. I...cannot tell you how much I appreciate this."

Strom bowed his head, but Yuris could tell he was pleased. "I am doing what is right, my friend. I'll fetch the proper vaccinations and order the older ones, and I'll contact the Embassy about getting identification."

Yuris nodded, and Strom departed to complete his errands.

…

A week went by in Yuris' house, and Eponine was amazed she hadn't been kicked out yet. He treated her like an honored guest, a friend, someone to be valued. It had been a very long time since anyone had treated her so kindly, save for Azelma. She was still trying to get used to the fact that these men were not human, but something different. She was reminded of the fairy tales of her childhood, of the stories her mother told her of elves and fairies and woodland creatures. _Desert elf_, she thought to herself with a chuckle every time she saw Yuris.

He would knock on her door (a luxury she had never been afforded; in the inn at Montfermiel and at their pitiful flat in Paris, people came and went as they pleased), and after she called for him to enter, he would bring her the broth she had grown so fond of. _Plomeek_, he called it. She would eat it while he watched, and she was beginning to love the pleased expression in his eyes when she finished her food. Already, her figure was filling out a little, and when she looked at her reflection in the small hand mirror (a rare gift that Yuris had gotten for her; she was still thanking him a week later), she looked less like a strong gust of wind might bowl her over, and more like a person, a human, not the scum of the street.

Then he slowly taught her the history of her planet since she had been on it. It had been a shock to her to hear that she was not only not on Earth, but that she was in a different time. She had still not come to terms with it, but she listened to his lessons anyway, in gratitude for what he had done for her, if nothing else. Teaching three hundred years of history was a slow process, but he stuck with it. He was in the later half of the 1800s, discussing with her the growth of empires, trade and new exploration of her planet. She listened to his every word with wide eyes and eager ears, and she especially wanted to hear news of her home country, France.

He told her of advancements in her people's science, in mathematics, physics, astronomy, chemistry. It was a struggle to grasp these concepts, but she was slowly catching on to the basics. He was no tutor, but she could tell he was putting in his best effort to see to her continuing education.

Oftentimes, when he was sitting and reading, or explaining a concept to her, or telling her a story from her future, his past, she would stare at him and examine him. She admitted to herself that, though her heart still felt the pangs of heartsickness for Marius, Yuris was no common farmer or butcher, or criminal like her. He bore himself with grace and dignity that she wished she could achieve, and his words were eloquent, flowing from his sculpted lips as a line flows from a painter's brush. His features were sharp, but he looked elegant, like some creature who both belonged in ancient woodland halls and, at the same time, in this technologically advanced world of desert and burning sands.

But what pierced her through, made her heart ache in a way she had never felt, was his kindness towards her, his focus on her well-being. He was ready and willing to fetch her anything she needed, and she felt like a lady in a high house, perhaps a courtier in the courts of an older time. The way he looked at her sometimes made her think he was imagining her in something much more sumptuous, but she was happy to wear clean clothes and have access to a device that kept her clean. Her hair had to be trimmed, but now it flowed down her back in waves and curls, and as she lay in bed at night, she did not worry about how she was going to find her next meal, or if her father would be angry with her and beat her in one of his drunken stupors, or if her mother would beat her for being a waste of space. She did not have to worry about Monteparnasse, or any of her father's gang. She did not have to worry about policemen or Javert. She had everything she could ever want, living in comfortable modesty.

But though a break from the street life was nice and Yuris was an angel, she felt restless, like there was some greater purpose out there, some great work she had to do. She knew her family had never been religious, but she had heard people talk of God's calling for them, and she thought perhaps the Almighty was talking to her, however indirectly and vaguely. But then she chided herself. The Great Almighty would not waste his time with a street criminal like herself.

Another week passed, and another, then another. Her body was slowly acclimating itself to the heat and the gravity, and when she woke up in the morning, it was not such a struggle to get up out of bed. She had filled out considerably, and when she saw Yuris, she noticed his eyes would linger on her limbs and on her middle, and a spark of pleasure would light up his golden eyes. The only Vulcans she had seen were Yuris and Strom, and she thought to herself that their eyes were the most lovely eyes she had ever seen. They changed color depending on the light, and if she stared into them long enough, she saw hidden depths, wells of strange emotion that created a dichotomy with their stoic faces. Strom and Yuris never smiled outright, and when she asked him why that was, she was told that it was the way of all Vulcans, that they kept their emotions suppressed, and to show them was offensive. She asked if she was being offensive by smiling at him, and he quickly quashed her doubts. She had seen a flash of something strange in his eyes then, something dark and slightly frightening, but it passed as quickly as it had come, and he looked away.

She sat in his small courtyard, enjoying the morning heat before it got to hot and she would have to retreat inside, and she practiced her handwriting with the pencil and paper Yuris had gotten for her. She dreamed of Marius, imagined him sitting beside her and watching her write, and she wrote him a letter in French.

She imagined walking with him in the streets of Shi'Kahr, as the nearby city was called. It was even larger than Paris, and had buildings that nearly touched the sky. Apparently on Earth now, there were similar buildings...

As she thought of it, pain ripped through her heart, and she looked down at her letter, suddenly feeling foolish. If she were, as Yuris said, three hundred years into the future, her future...then surely everyone she knew and loved was dead. Azelma was dead, Gavroche was dead, Monteparnasse was dead...Marius was dead.

The realization gripped her like a wild beast digging its claws into the prey that will be its dinner. The letter was crumpled into a ball in her tight fist, and the pencil was cast aside. She had been living in a dream world, and it was time to wake up. She didn't belong here, among the tall buildings and the beautiful elf men and the desert heat and the man who treated her like more than she was. She didn't deserve this. She couldn't take what she didn't deserve. Charity was nice when you were desperate, but she was not desperately clinging to life anymore. She wanted to go home, to go back, to chase the dream that had held her afloat on the sea of despair. She wanted to belong to Marius, but how could she belong to him if he was a rotted corpse?

The thought made her sick to her stomach, and suddenly the morning heat was too hot, too stifling. She wondered how she had lasted so long in this God-forsaken place. She did not belong here. She wanted out.

She ran to the door and ripped it open, then ran, searching the house for Yuris. Leaving the modest comfort of his home would be painful, but a life without Marius was far more unpleasant. She had to go back. She had to go home.

Finally, she found him in the back garden, picking herbs that he had planted a month ago for the _plomeek _she had come to relish. Just the sight of him doing that was ripping her heart to pieces, but she rationalized. How could she live in a place like this? She was not an educated woman, no matter what Yuris said. She was nothing more than a street waif, a common criminal, scum of the street. She could be nothing else.

As she hesitated in the doorway, she thought of all Yuris had done for her, rending her heart further. He did not see her as a common criminal, or scum, or worthless. He believed she had worth. He believed she had potential. He worked hard to teach her every day, teach her things she could never understand.

Yuris turned to her and smiled ever so slightly, the corners of his lovely sculpted lips lifting up at the corners. Now that she was determined to leave, she noticed little things about him, the slope of his brow, the sharp angles of his face, the strong line of his nose. Even more potent to her now was his kindness and his generosity, which she could never hope to repay.

She took a deep breath, and made her choice.

"I want to go back."

Several beats of silence passed, and he straightened. She thought her heart was breaking before at the thought of Marius' death, but why was it so much harder to tell _him _that she wanted to leave?


	5. The Examination

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Fameanon (and Yuris' mind), Ahlysha, dinopoodle and Caren Rose for reviewing. You're all amazing!**_

"You can't go back," Strom said firmly.

Eponine bit her lip and bowed her head. "And why is that, monsieur?"

"You know too much," he replied with an almost imperceptible smile. "Yuris had already taught you more history than you should know. Furthermore, the scientist who took this case has told me that after 72 hours, the temporal matrix that allowed you to come here in the first place will dissolve. As your people say, you're stuck here, and we have absolutely no way of sending you back into your time."

He handed her a stiff card made of a material Yuris had called 'plastic'. "This is your identification card. Do not lose it."

She looked down at it and saw her name printed on the plastic card, and she stowed it away in an inner pocket of the robes Yuris had lent her. At first she was unsure if putting on more material would help with the heat, but it turned out the robes were designed to keep heat out. It did help to wear them in the heat of the day, to stay cool.

"Why did it take so long to get her identification?"

Strom sighed. "The process is quite tedious, and we had to bypass several systems. In addition, she has no records at all, so we had to hijack Earth's system and create a page for her."

Yuris and Strom continued to talk, but Eponine felt her knees seemingly turn to water, and she sat in the nearest chair and stared at the floor. _You cannot go back. _The words echoed in her head, over and over, reiterating her fate. A part of her was demanding that she speak, that they find a way to send her home. Marius..._Marius_...Azelma, the ABC cafe...they needed her to be home!

_No, _another part of her chided. _They never wanted you. Azelma can get by on her own, the ABC cafe didn't even know you existed...and Marius..._

"We could at least try!" Yuris hissed, bringing her momentarily out of her reverie. But she was sucked right back in, imagining Marius' face, his voice, his walk...

_Haven't you always dreamed of escaping from Saint-Michel, and living a life elsewhere? Didn't you dream of adventure as a child? Here's your chance! And besides...you have no choice._

_Marius..._he hardly ever spent five minutes with her, other than to ask some favor. He was always too busy, too engaged in his books...and then Cosette had come...

_Cosette..._that prissy little brat! What in the world was she doing in Paris anyway? Mother had always thought that when that man had come and taken Cosette away, he had most likely engaged in the most heinous things with her. Eponine had laughed with her father at the time, but she felt guilty for laughing, for not caring about Cosette. She felt jealousy for the first time when that man had come, and deeper in her heart it struck when she saw the love-struck look on Marius' face after he looked at that girl, at Cosette...never at her...

_But he has no chance with her! _The side of her mind that still desired to go home rallied her spirits and crushed her soul at the same time. _When Cosette leaves him for some high-class bourgeoisie, he'll come crawling back to you!_

_For what? What have I to offer him? He has an education; I have nothing. He has connections; my father is a criminal. He's an honest man...I'm nothing but a street rat, a thief, a liar..._

"Eponine?"

She looked up at Yuris with tear-filled eyes. "Yes, monsieur?"

"If you...if you feel you cannot stand to live here...we could send you to Earth," he said quietly. "At least there, you would be with your own people."

She shook her head. "I...if I cannot go back...than I don't want to leave you, monsieur. But...isn't there something I can do? To earn my keep?"

Yuris shook his head. "We will continue to educate you. In the meantime, do you wish to perhaps go to the marketplace with me? You haven't been outside in a while."

The air felt thick around her, and she breathed in slowly, wanting to get out of this house, out of this conversation.

"Ok," she said softly, standing on wobbly feet. Yuris caught her and looked down at her in concern, and she righted herself. He let go after a moment, and she frowned at Strom. She wasn't feeling particularly pleasant at the moment, or polite, otherwise she would have thanked him for all that he had done. To change official records...even she knew that was risky.

She watched as Strom took his leave and left the house, and then she looked under her lashes up at Yuris. He was staring at her, his eyes roaming all over her face, and she turned away before she shed more tears.

"I'm sorry, monsieur, for causing you such trouble," she said meekly.

"No," he breathed, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. "Do not apologize. We did not think of the shock you must have felt coming here, not only to a new time but to an entirely different environment than the one you know. You had every right to feel uncomfortable."

"I'll be ok," she whispered, more to her herself than to him. She forced her lips upward in a small smile, and she looked out at the sun, taking a deep breath. "I'll be ok." _I have you._

The thought sprung from nowhere, and she felt her cheeks grow warm, and she turned away from him to hide it. Indeed, she had grown used to his presence, perhaps even fond of him, and it hurt to see him hurting. He was her friend, her caretaker...and a part of her was glad she wouldn't be parted from him.

She glanced back at him and paused, staring deeply into his golden-green eyes. The look on his face was familiar...she thought briefly that it resembled the look on Marius' face when she had told him she knew where Cosette lived. Eyes full of hope and promise, bright and alert...

But she was dreaming. He was her friend, her teacher, nothing more. No man like him could ever see anything in a girl like her.

…

Eponine smiled slightly at Yuris as he walked into the room with medical equipment, a scanner, and he asked her to stand. She set aside her textbook and obeyed. Two weeks had gone by since her panic, and she felt stronger, smarter, healthier. She wasn't constantly plagued by hunger, and she didn't move about like a frightened mouse. She stood up tall like the woman that she was, instead of hunched against the cold like an old crone.

Yuris began scanning her to take the surface readings. The shots he had given her, and inoculations against the curable diseased, and the few viral infections she had seemed to work. "I'm going to take a little blood," he said softly, pricking her finger to get the drop he needed. He placed it in the table scanner and watched as the test results started running over the screen. He turned to her, and his gaze did not meet hers exactly he found a point just over her head to look.

"I have a gown laid out for you, if you could...remove your clothes and change into it." He turned to leave. "I'll wait outside. Let me know when you are ready."

Eponine waited until the door was closed before taking off her clothes. She laid them aside, smoothing them out as she went, but before she put on the robe, she took a good look down at her body.

Her ribs no longer stuck out from her body, and her waist was bigger than two man's hands circumference. She had filled out in the six weeks she had been here, and it showed – in her stomach, in her thighs, on her rear...she blushed at the last thought and looked down at herself again (after looking away for a second). She didn't wear a brassiere when she could get away with it, as it felt uncomfortable to her, and the extra fabric only made her hot. Her breasts also seemed larger, and she didn't know why, but she raised a hand and cupped one in fascination, staring at it, squeezing it, pushing it this way and that. She was barely a woman, but a proper diet and medical care had made her into a person she hardly recognized.

Her other hand went to her hair and curled a finger around a dark lock. It had been ages since she was this healthy, and it was strange to see a properly fed, properly cared for Eponine again.

Eponine turned when she heard the door open and dove for the gown he had given her to put on, and she heard a soft exhalation. She had her back turned to him, but her back was bare to his vision. She felt the back of her neck tingle; his eyes were on her...and yet she didn't feel afraid. She knew, somehow she knew, that Yuris was an honest man who would never take advantage of her.

Still, something possessed her to turn her head around and look at him, and he was frozen, his eyes wide as he looked over her. His eyes were dark, yet...she had no idea what was going through his head. He was probably wondering why she hadn't gotten dressed yet, why she was standing there half-naked.

She turned back around and pulled the gown over her head, letting it fall in place. Yuris cleared his throat and looked down at the PADD he had in hand, and he avoided her gaze as he spoke.

"Alright, Eponine, just a few things. I'll need to touch you and examine you, but if you feel uncomfortable let me know and I will stop." He helped her up the exam table and ran a few scans more, then he slowly touched her stomach. He pressed his fingers into her skin, and she winced slightly at the pressure. He was gentle, but being touched in such a manner was foreign.

"I'm sorry if I barged in on you too quickly. I had the most pleasant of ideas I thought I might share them with you." He folded his arms. "How would you like to go to a more temperate planet, one with a tropical climate? I think it would be agreeable. If you wished, I could teach you how to be a nurse, an assistant for me."

He gave her a small smile, and his fingers went to her neck, pressing into her flesh once more. His touch was sending electricity to every point on her body, and she breathed in and out, trying not to breathe too quickly. He was having a strange effect on her, making her feel wet and hot, and she bit her lip.

"Is something wrong?" he asked quietly, withdrawing his fingers. She shook her head.

"So you know a planet like Africa?"

The thought of moving somewhere else was appealing. Vulcan may have made her stronger, but the heat and the thin air still made her feel weary. She wanted to go to a place that felt like home, not like hell.

He turned and picked up his PADD, and he handed it to her. "You may look at this while I finish the examination, it might make the rest of it less uncomfortable." He looked to the bottom half of her body, "I have to do an exam on your...womanhood," he said solemnly, "but I will try to make it as quick as possible. I did this one other time, if you remember. I have to make sure that the small surgery I had to perform healed well and there are no scars that might make...that would be uncomfortable for you."

She glanced at the PADD and started reading, bracing herself for what he was going to do. The planet looked lovely, and the concept of taking a moment of time and freezing it still fascinated her. And Yuris said there were moving pictures too, like looking into another world.

She dropped the PADD when his hand began to search her. Her first instinct was to push his hand away as he placed them on her private parts. Her next instinct was to buck into his touch, to somehow make his fingers touch her where she most needed and wanted touch. But she froze and began to breathe irregularly, and she felt light-headed.

"Eponine?" he asked. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away...

_Brujon was crushing her with his weight, pounding into her, but all she felt was pain...Babet was licking at her neck, perhaps thinking it would make her like it. She let out a nondescript sound to placate him...Monteparnasse shoving her down on her knees, his erect, engorged – _

She felt as if she couldn't breathe, and spots were flashing in her vision. She felt warm, too warm, even though the room was pleasantly cool...

_Yuris was there, standing before her, and he made the men disappear. He pulled her close and held her tight, stroking her hair._

"_You are ok, Eponine. I am here and these are phantoms of the past. You are safe. You are with me and __I will never let anyone harm you," he said to her. "You are safe." He gently pushed back her hair and gazed deeply into her eyes. "You are loved."_

She fell limp into strong arms, and blackness consumed her vision. She was no longer being used by Brujon or the others, but she was no longer in Yuris' house. She was in a space all to herself, a clean space, no dirt, no men, no women either, no babies crying, no beatings, no sickness...only peace and contentment.

And she heard a voice whisper in her ear before she gave in to complete unconsciousness.

_"You will never hurt like that again," _it whispered, and she knew no more.


	6. The Accusation

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Ahlysha, Fameanon (and Yuris and Strom), Caren Rose and the anon reviewer for reviewing. You're all amazing!**_

_September 21, 2152, Shi'Kahr, outskirts_

Yuris smiled ever so slightly at the sight of Eponine dressed in his traveling robes, clothing he had let her borrow while his former wife's clothing (Eponine's clothing now) was being cleaned in his home cleaner unit. They were a little big, but he had kept them from a time when he was younger and not as tall. They were a little short at the hem, but it would keep her from tripping over the robes in the crowded marketplace.

It was strange to feel such pleasure at the sight of her robed in his clothing, in his garb...in his protection. It was...symbolic in a way, a sign that he would protect her from the elements and the heat, as was his duty as her...doctor. He sighed quietly to himself, gesturing towards the door, and they departed.

It was still early, but the day's heat was already beginning to take its toll on her. He spied beads of sweat on her forehead, and he resisted the urge to reach over to her and wipe the moisture from her brow. That little bit would help to cool her, he learned, but too much and he would have to take her back to his home and rehydrate her thoroughly. The walk to the market was perhaps fifteen minutes, and he only planned to be in the market for about half an hour to replenish his stock of _plomeek _stalks for Eponine's favorite dish.

Just the thought of making soup for her made him content, but more than that, the knowledge that she _enjoyed _his cooking was very pleasing to him. He had forgotten how nice it was to be needed, to have someone who depended on him. It was nice to be a provider and protector again, not just a lonely man doing research on Pan'ar Syndrome. It made him feel alive, as if every desert rock, the color of the sky, the calling of the desert birds was all new and fresh and clean and beautiful. Being with her made it beautiful...

He looked down at her again, satisfaction spreading to every pore of his being. She was his reason for living now, and he intended to make her life with him as pleasant as he possibly could.

…

_Shi'Kahr marketplace_

Eponine stayed close to Yuris in the crowded marketplace, sometimes even going so far as to pinch a bit of his robes between her fingers, as something to hold on to when they passed through large groups of people. They went from stall to stall, and Eponine was amazed with all of the exotic food for sale. Thankfully, each market stall was housed under a thick cloth tent to keep the heat from spoiling the food, and standing underneath them offered a little bit of relief from the sun. The heat was still permeating through the air, but the shaded tents were most likely designed to keep out heat. It was the most logical and practical thing to do, and if she had learned anything about the people here, it was that they used logic more than any Enlightenment thinker Marius had ever talked about.

Still, she relied on her usual habit of watching for the law as they wandered from stall to stall, and Yuris apparently noticed her behavior.

"Eponine?"

She frowned at him. "Old habit," she said curtly, glancing toward the exits as she walked beside him.

He gave her an odd look. "Are you frightened? There is no need to be. Relax, and help me pick out some _gaspar _fruit. You seemed to enjoy it more than the other types of fruits you've tried."

She sighed, trying to tear her eyes away from all the sights and sounds of the marketplace, and she followed Yuris dutifully to the row of _gaspar _fruit sellers.

What she found disconcerting were the looks some of the merchants gave her caretaker as they browsed the fruit, and she noticed that many of the other customers in the marketplace were giving him wide berth. He didn't seem to notice, or wasn't acknowledging it, and she decided not to let it bother her either. It wasn't as if she didn't know what it was like to be scorned and looked on as unworthy or undesirable; that was her life in Paris. That was her being: dirty, smelly, scheming scum of the street.

But Yuris was so kind and gentle, and seemed like a normal member of his society, albeit a much more generous one than most, she was sure. And yet they looked at him like they were afraid to touch him, or even be near him, like he was some gypsy rat come in to town for the week.

A Vulcan man in heavily embroidered clothing and a Vulcan lady in even finer robes beckoned her toward them, and she looked at Yuris, who raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"I will wait for you here," he said, then payed the merchant behind the stall. She nodded and approached the couple, and they looked down at her with pitying, somber eyes. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, remembering that look from the uppity _bourgeoisie _strutting about the town...

"Monsieur, madame," she said politely, curtseying briefly. "How can I help you?"

"The man you were speaking to," the man said quietly, his voice deep and crisp, "do you know who he is?"

She frowned. "His name is Yuris," she replied, nonplussed.

The couple exchanged a knowing glance, and the woman stepped closer. "You are human and would not know of this...but that man you are with is dangerous."

Eponine paused, pondering how to respond to their assertion. She knew little of Yuris, but she felt in her heart that he was the least dangerous man she had ever met. Any rich lady on the streets of Paris would have identified Eponine as a street thief, 'that Jondrette girl', a waif...they did not know destitution, and passed judgment on what they didn't know. She was sure the couple meant well, but their statement irked her.

Still, she allowed her eyes to widen, preferring to act innocent. "Oh no, madame," she said softly. "He wouldn't hurt a fly! I saw just the other day, in his back garden, he picked up a worm that was caught in the pavement and put it back in the sand! Monsieur Yuris is a very kind man."

The woman shook her head and stepped still closer, leaning down to whisper in Eponine's ear. "You do not understand...he is a _melder_," she hissed. "He has the ability to rape your mind! You say he is kind, but it stands to reason that he is only trying to lure you in, to prey on you later."

Eponine shook her head. "Yuris would never!" she said, sounding shocked, even though she was seething in anger now. But even as she stewed, a seed of doubt entered her mind. She knew as little of Yuris as she knew of Strom, and she had decided to throw in her lot with theirs, because she had no other options, and they were kind. But a kernel of truth might have been hiding in the woman's words. Could she trust Yuris, truly?

She tried a different tactic. "What is melding, and why is it so wrong?"

The man spoke this time. "He is a deviant, young lady, and most likely has animal appetites for strange things. It's no wonder he tricked you into living with him. He will probably be raping your mind within two weeks!" The man sounded genuinely concerned. "You're young and naïve, and perhaps you think too well of our species...while I can truthfully say that most Vulcans are honest members of society...there are some, genetic aberrations, who linger at the fringe of the social norm, often outside it." He leaned closer. "He's not _natural_, young lady. It would be in your best interests to come with us to the Earth Embassy."

Eponine shook her head. "He has shown me nothing but kindness," she said firmly, still keeping her voice soft and innocent.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "How long before that kindness runs its course, and he uses you for his own sadistic purposes?"

She blinked. "I don't know," she said breathlessly. "How long before you learn not to judge people you do not know?"

The couple narrowed their eyes, but she smiled sweetly. "Madame, monsieur," she said with another curtsey. "Good day."

She ran back to Yuris and, with a simple hand gesture and pointed expression, begged for them to leave the market. She didn't want those ignorant Vulcans staring at her and her caretaker, and Yuris, thankfully, got the hint and led her from the square. When they were several streets away from it and the noise level had died down, he turned to her and slowed his stride.

"You defended me," he said, his voice nearly awed. Her heart twisted painfully.

She shrugged. "I told the truth, monsieur. You would never hurt me."

He moved his hand as if he was going to touch her, but then he let it fall back at his side. "I appreciate your trust in me, and I swear on my life's blood that I would never abuse the abilities I have."

Her heart stopped. "They said you were a melder..."

He waited until they were in his home again before speaking. "Yes, Eponine, I am a melder. But most Vulcans do not understand what that means. I was born with the ability, and my parents, who also have the ability, chose to have me trained in its arts, so I master my telepathic nature, instead of using it for ill or harming others with my inexperience."

She frowned. "Do they know you were born with this?"

He nodded. "They do...I am not ashamed of what I am, Eponine," he insisted softly. "Shame over what cannot be changed is highly illogical."

She glanced down at the floor. "Why are you so kind to me, monsieur?"

He turned away, and she watched his eyes darken. "I am kind because it is the right thing to do. I can see it in your eyes...in your dreams," he closed his eyes, "you are hurting."

She swallowed thickly. "How can you see my dreams, monsieur?"

She had had several nightmares since her episode with his medical examination, and most involved memories of her darkest hours. But often about halfway through the dreams, a hooded man appeared and led her away to a safe place, and let her rest there, guarding her with a dangerous-looking weapon that had a blunt ball of steel on one end, and a curved half-moon blade on the other.

The tips of his ears turned mint green, and he turned away. "You talk in your sleep, and my planet is harsh. You do not need nightmares to keep you from attaining a good night's rest. I have often guided you in your dreams to a safe haven so you can rest."

Her eyes widened. "You're the hooded man?"

He nodded. "Yes...please do not think ill of me."

She shook her head. "How can I? You have saved me in my dreams a hundred times over...and you saved me in the waking world as well. I am deep in your debt, monsieur." She blushed and looked at the floor again. "I wish I could find a way to repay you."

She felt his fingers cup her face, and he gently raised her chin until she was looking him in the eye. "The only payment I want to see is a content and healthy Eponine," he said softly. "That is worth more than any currency in the galaxy to me."

She blushed even harder, feeling tears gather in her eyes, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am blessed beyond measure to know you, monsieur."

"My name is Yuris," he said quietly, removing his hand. "I'd prefer to go by that name."

He turned away and began unpacking the vegetables, and she stood there, not sure what to think of his behavior. Suspicions were beginning to grow in her gut, but she dismissed them as soon as they rose. She smiled when he glanced at her and rushed to help him, washing the specimens and handing them to him for storage.

"Anything else, Yuris?" she asked after they were done.

"Not chores," he said softly, smiling ever so slightly at her, gesturing towards the table. "Let us learn more about your planet's political system, shall we?"

She sighed but smiled, following him to the table and settling herself down for another lesson.

…

Strom tapped away at his console, his thoughts focused on his work. It had been a week since he had seen Yuris and Eponine, but despite some minor setbacks (Yuris had told him a horror story of the flashback she was subjected to), Eponine seemed to be doing well, and she was adjusting to the climate and the culture quite well, it seemed.

He looked up when he heard his door open, and an officer from the Security Directorate walked in. The man wore the metallic bronze of a sub-lieutenant, and Strom could see by his expression and his insignia that this man had rank and power.

The doctor stood and raised the _ta'al_, and the sub-lieutenant returned the gesture.

"How may I help you?" Strom asked politely, keeping his tone neutral.

"We received a tip-off that a man who used to work here has kidnapped a human girl, and his holding her in his home. This man is a deviant, a melder. The secretary told us that you and this man used to be associates. Can you tell us anything about these accusations?"

"What man are you referring to?" Strom asked, playing innocent.

"His name is Yuris, of Shi'Kahr."

"Ah," the doctor said in mock comprehension. "I doubt Yuris would step on a passing sandworm, much less kidnap a human girl. I believe these accusations to be false."

The security officer narrowed his eyes. "You are certain of that, doctor?"

"What cause have I to lie? He is a melder, yes, but the man I knew wouldn't hurt a charging _sehlat_."

The man narrowed his eyes further, then turned on his heel and marched from his office, closing the door behind him.

Strom sat back down and began typing furiously, sending Yuris a message that he might be brought in on extra charges if he did not leave Vulcan within six hours. He did a quick search and bought two tickets in his cousin's name, hoping to throw the Security Directorate off track. The tickets were one-way to Mazar, the best place in Strom's mind for his chosen brother and his charge to hide that was safe enough for the two of them.

He did another search and found a research facility five miles from the Vulcan Consulate on Mazar, and the director of the facility was accepting work, no questions asked. The trials that had swept the upper tiers of Mazarite government had left several higher jobs empty, and the lower workers rose up in rank, but that left several jobs open for simple grudge work: changing samples, taking readings, summarizing data and the like. This particular research facility was searched two months ago for illegal pharmaceuticals, and the last director had been jailed for the production of said contraband, along with several doctors. Anyone with medical background was welcome in this place, and they were willing to pay well for the applicant's services, as the work was tedious and the hours long.

Strom quickly sent the information to Yuris and decided to send him a message on his personal PADD in fifteen minutes, to make sure Yuris had a plan and was working on getting off of Vulcan.

He sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do until he got off work in an hour, and then he would go to Yuris' house and make sure they were gone or on their way out. His chosen brother deserved praise for helping Ms. Thenardier, not jail time, and he prayed to whatever deities might be out there that his brother and his charge would be safe on Mazar in a few days.


	7. The Escape

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Fameanon, Ahlysha, maba7x, and Caren Rose for reviewing!**_

_Shi'Kahr, outskirts, September 22, 2152_

"Where are we going?"

Yuris sighed and helped her into the aircar. "We are leaving this planet, Eponine. We're going to Mazar. The environment is closer to what you are used to, and it will be less harsh on your body."

"Why now?" she asked, but he did not answer. He started the vehicle and set a course for the transport station, being sure to obey the traffic laws. He would not have this escape ruined so early on because of his desire to get out of here as soon as possible. He forced himself to calm down, for Eponine's sake.

"The hottest part of our year is only a few weeks away," he offered, suspecting she wouldn't buy it.

"I've adjusted to the heat...somewhat."

"The dry season on Vulcan is brutal," he continued. "I will not have my patient succumbing to heat stroke again."

She sighed and leaned back into the seat. "Monsieur and Madame Nosy are only two in a larger group of people who do not like you, am I correct, monsieur?"

He nodded. "My name is Yuris. But for our purposes today, you may call me Zynek."

She turned fully to him, her eyes flooding with comprehension. "I'll watch for the law if you do the talking," she said, and he stared at her.

"You have done this before?"

"Escape from the law? Several times," she said quietly, looking out the window.

He sighed. "It would be helpful if you would keep an eye out for security that might prevent us from leaving. But be subtle, Eponine. Security is trained to notice nervousness and potential...shady dealings."

"I know how to be subtle, Yuris...Zynek?"

He allowed himself a small, wry grin. "Just stay close to me and act calm. If we are stopped, act confused."

She smiled slightly to herself and stared straight ahead, the folder with her papers and identification clutched tightly in her hands.

The transport station was crowded and noisy, but Yuris focused on his goal, holding his folder tightly in his arms along with his bag. Eponine strode beside him, her eyes sometimes shifting to the corners and ceiling of the great hall, looking for cameras and security personnel that might incriminate them or stop them. They got through the baggage check and metal detectors without any problems, and Yuris calmly proceeded to the ticket station, Eponine at his side.

The man at the station was austere and cold, but Yuris calmly handed him his ticket and waited for a verdict.

"Mazar?" the man said with a raised brow. "That is not a very pleasant destination. Why are you going?"

"I am aware it is unpleasant," Yuris said coldly. "I am not particularly eager to leave my home, but business has forced me to take this trip."

"One way?"

"My plans are indefinite."

The man gazed down his nose at Eponine. "And this human?"

"The daughter of my colleague. He is meeting us on Mazar."

The guard gazed at the two of them, and Eponine tried to look bored. She gazed around at the stations with an apathetic expression, and the man finally let them through.

They boarded the shuttle that would take them to the transport, and Yuris found a seat in the back and absorbed himself in reading a PADD, avoiding everyone's eye. Eponine did the same, reading a piece of literature he had found for her from the human database.

It was pure coincidence that Eponine was seated by a window, and Yuris glanced out of the viewing port and saw Security Directorate flitters circling the transport station, preparing to land. The shuttle they were on, however, took off a few moments later, and Eponine leaned back in the seat. Yuris followed suit.

"Since this trip was unplanned, we will have to share a room. I assure you, I will respect your privacy."

She smiled at him. "Of all the things I've been told by the men in my life, I believe that the most."

Eponine turned back to her reading, and Yuris let his gaze linger on her a moment longer, warmth spreading through his limbs. Whatever happened now, whatever befell them, he swore to himself that he would protect her.

…

Strom walked calmly with the guard who led him not to an interrogation room, but to the very chambers of the High Command. The ministers all looked down their noses at him, except for Kuvak, who looked pensive. Administrator V'Las, seated in the middle of the row of men, fixed a triumphant, nearly gleeful stare on the doctor as Strom stood before them, composing himself for their inevitable questions.

He had covered his tracks with a very complicated algorithm he had learned in secondary school from a friend, an engineer, and he was confident that most Vulcans could not break it. But this was the Security Directorate, the High Command, who had the best minds on Vulcan on their side. Still, they only had evidence to suspect him, not convict him. He knew he had covered himself well enough to escape outright suspicion.

Minister Kuvak put his PADDs in his robes and looked at Strom. He looked as if he wanted to speak, but V'Las interrupted him, his tone smug and assurred.

"You know that aiding and abetting a known deviant could be considered treason against the state, do you not Dr. Strom?" He flicked his robes over his wrists and stalked around the table toward him. "Especially one with the rank and medical background that Dr. Yuris has."

V'Las snapped his fingers and waved one of his assistants over. "Yuris has degrees in bioengineering, microbiology, and other assorted specialties that, combined with his deviant status, make him a threat to Vulcan." He cocked his head and stared Strom down. "Are you aware that helping him escape Vulcan might be considered treason, a crime that still carries the death penalty?"

Strom held his head high. "And what solid evidence do you have against me? All I have been told is that passage aboard a transport was obtained for the former doctor, and that my console in my office was used to obtain them. I do not wish to argue with his Excellency, but how can you convict me of a crime when there is no evidence to clearly say that I am guilty? I mean no insult, but until I see solid evidence brought against me, I consider this trial unjust and illogical."

V'Las's eyes narrowed at Strom, "What more do we need than that evidence, Doctor?" He stalked around him, reminding Strom of a sehlat honing in on its prey. "Who else with motive has access to your computer console and the encryption to log on? Are you claiming some kind of conspiracy?"

Strom flared his nostrils, but stayed silent.

V'Las scoffed. "It is well known that you are a friend of the deviant. I have several correspondence between the two of you, where you call each other chosen brothers. Are you really going to insult the intelligence of the High Command by denying your part in this...escape?"

Kuvak stepped forward. "Administrator, I must agree with Dr. Strom. The evidence we have is purely circumstantial. We cannot convict, let alone execute him with what we have here. I would call an end to this inquiry on that basis."

Strom felt a rush of relief at those words, and he turned to the administrator with a neutral gaze. "It is not my intent to insult the intelligence of the High Command. But where lives are at stake, it is not logical to be completely sure of a man's guilt?"

Kuvak nodded. "Administrator, I cannot allow this to continue. Do not be so eager to deal out death and judgment. It is not logical."

V'Las rounded on Kuvak. "Are you questioning my logic, minister?" He almost sounded angry, but Kuvak stood his ground.

"A conviction of treason, and therefore a sentence of death, requires a unanimous vote. You do not have my vote. I suggest we release this man."

V'Las turned away and waved his hand backward, as a message to the assistant he had called forward.

"Release him," he spat, and then turned, eying Strom with a dark glare. "I'll be watching you, Dr. Strom," he said, ire tinging his voice. Strom simply nodded his head and kept a neutral expression. "This isn't over."

Kuvak stepped forward still. "Go home." he said, a note of apology in his tone.

Strom nodded and turned, leaving the chambers of the High Command without another word, and it was only when he was back at his home that he allowed himself to breathe.

…

Yuris departed the shuttle with Eponine at his side, keeping his gaze from meeting those of the other passengers. He quickly retreated to their room and set down his things, and only when the door was closed did he relax and sit on the bed.

He glanced at Eponine, who was gazing out of the window. She looked shocked, frozen in place, and he leaped to his feet and rushed to her side.

"Eponine?" he murmured, lightly touching her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

She gasped for breath and clutched the window sill. "How...how are we looking down at that?" She pointed a shaky finger to the planet below.

"We are in orbit," he explained softly. "Just as your moon orbits your planet, and your planet orbits your sun, so we are in orbit around Vulcan. We'll be leaving in a few minutes."

She nodded absentmindedly. "_Mon dieu..._what is the blackness among the stars like?"

"Cold," he muttered. "One cannot breathe in space. There is no oxygen. Have I not taught you this?"

"An idea, or a lesson, and reality are very different things, monsieur."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. Gravity, the force that holds you to the floor right now, is an idea, and it is also reality. Otherwise, you would be floating around in this room, weightless."

She frowned at him. "That is not what I meant."

He looked down at his planet as the transport broke orbit and set course for its destination. Eponine squealed and clutched the sill, and he returned his hand to her shoulder, caressing her clothed flesh to reassure her.

"It is all right, Eponine," he whispered, walking her carefully away from the window. "You're safe here."

"We are traveling among the stars?" she breathed, staring up at him with wide eyes. He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"It is quite a marvel, is it not?"

She fell silent, staring at the floor, perhaps trying to feel for the movement of the transport. "I imagined it would feel like a ship on the ocean..."

She backed into him, pressing her back into his shoulder, and he paused, breathing in slowly. This only caused him to be assaulted by her scent, and he unintentionally bowed his head so he could be closer to her sweet smell.

Then he remembered that she was probably touching him because she was frightened, and he banished his dirty thoughts and sent comfort through his touch.

"The journey will be smooth and uneventful, I assure you," he murmured in her ear. "You can sit down, if that makes you feel more comfortable."

She nodded, seemingly unsteady on her feet, and he helped her sit on the bed, sitting beside her.

"When we reach Mazar, I will interview for a job that is being offered at a clinic, five miles from the Vulcan Consulate. I have been searching for a new home for us as well, and I have found a suitable place to live. You will have your own room, as you did in my home on Vulcan."

She smiled at him. "You are too kind, monsieur. I don't know where I would be without you." She paused. "Actually, I do know...I would be dead."

The thought made his stomach turn, and he lightly squeezed her shoulder before removing his hand. "I only hope this transition will be agreeable for you. There is much for you to learn...much for both of us to learn. For my people to learn. I am sorry that you got caught in our politics."

Her smile was wan, and she sighed, scooting a little closer and lightly pressing her leg into his, but only for a brief moment. "We'll be all right. I'm tougher than I look...and you're a strong man. I have no doubt we'll see this through."

Her optimism made the tiniest smile tug his lips upward, and he resisted the urge to stroke her hair.

"We will, Eponine. Whatever comes, I will protect you."


	8. The Chase

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Eponine), Caren Rose, Ahlysha, maba7x, and the anon reviewer for reviewing.**_

_V'Zal, Mazar, October 1, 2152_

Eponine watched Yuris sling his bag over his shoulder with ease, and she lifted her little bag of clothes that he had thrust upon her when they had gotten the news that they needed to run. They exited their room and headed to the shuttle that would take them to the planet's surface, and Yuris seemed to be avoiding eye contact with the other passengers much more than usual, seemingly absorbed in a PADD. Eponine, on the other hand, looked around under her lashes every once and a while to make sure no one was watching them or following them.

The shuttle ride was uneventful, and no one so much as batted an eyelash at them as they sat together, once again in the back. The shuttle landed and they all departed, and Eponine continued her lookout for the law.

She noticed approximately six Vulcans in silver uniforms on the other side of the contamination station they were in line to use, and she quietly pointed them out to Yuris, then looked away. He nodded in understanding and they went through the station as usual, and she followed his lead.

He immediately veered left and went out the nearest exit into the deepening twilight, securing his luggage onto his back, and she did the same, anticipating the need to run. Two more officers in gold were lingering by the street, and Yuris led her down a side alley to avoid them. She heard their footsteps behind them, but Yuris pressed on.

"Where's the nearest market?" she asked casually, keeping her voice low.

He quirked an eyebrow and quickly checked his PADD. The footsteps were still behind them, and Eponine heard them whispering to each other. "Two blocks, less than five minutes."

"Let's go find something to eat." She hoped he would understand that they needed to get lost in the crowd in order to shake these officers, because as Yuris had told her, they had agility and speed to far outlast her and Yuris. Quick thinking and luck were what they needed now, and she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. It was like she was back in Saint-Michel, a loaf of stolen bread in her hands, pursued by Inspector Javert.

They turned a corner and continued on their way, every once and a while circling around, trying to shake them. Eponine thought this made it look more obvious that they were avoiding the two Vulcan officers, but they were almost to the market. They'd be safe there.

Or so she thought.

They were one street over from the market when they saw that the other six Vulcans had positioned themselves at regular intervals around the market entrances, including one near the entrance they intended to use. Eponine took his hand in hers and pulled him down a side street.

The spring wind was chill at their backs as they hurried through the city, winding their way into its depths. Yuris did not speak or question her as she dragged him along, and she chose not to protest when he led. They followed each other, slipping through side streets and squares and through the middle of apartment complexes until they had no idea where they were, and they couldn't hear footsteps anymore.

"So where are we?" she murmured. Yuris checked his PADD.

"Approximately ten miles from where we need to be," he replied. "I told the landlord of the apartment we will be renting that I would meet him before midnight, and that gives us another three hours before we have to be in his office to pay the down payment and get our key."

She nodded, then stiffened as she heard footsteps again. "Come, monsieur."

She saw a wall up ahead and asked what it was as quietly as she could. He looked at the map on his PADD and informed her that it was an unmarked district.

"What do you think that means?" she hissed.

"I am unsure at the moment, but if our pursuers advance further, I believe we will have to climb it."

She nodded and, even as they spoke, the footsteps following them gained on them. She hurried to the wall and found a foothold, and with a boost from Yuris, she was up the wall. She straddled it, squeezing the cold bricks between her knees, and she held her hand out for Yuris to take. He used the same hold as she had used and slowly made his way up the wall, and soon he was straddling it too. When they saw shadows coming around the corner, they jumped down to the other side and looked around.

Eponine felt as if she had fallen right back into her old life. The streets were grimy with dirt, and the houses looked as if a strong gust of wind would blow them over. Empty lawns, pale brown from a lack of grass, yawned behind chain link fence and crumbling brick walls. It was an ugly place, a desolate place, with no greenery to be found. They advanced in the dark, and Eponine took his hand on instinct, fear creeping into her heart.

"Is anyone following us?"

He shook his head. "Once we're at the other side, we'll turn west and backtrack to our destination. This neighborhood is only ten blocks square. We should be out shortly."

They walked slowly through the dusty streets, watching the last rays of sunlight sink below the clouded horizon. So began their first night on Mazar. So far it was proving to be a frightening place, but she dug down deep into the depths of her heart, pulling out that old, spunky Eponine who wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. She managed to smile, though she kept a tight grip on Yuris' hand.

"Why do you suppose they put a wall around this place? Why not renovate it?" Yuris murmured, as if thinking out loud.

"They hide away the poor," she replied spitefully. "I lived in places like this. The government wants nothing to do with the likes of the downtrodden, so they store them away into their own little neighborhood to waste away. I'm surprised there hasn't been a rebellion against the rich yet."

Yuris shook his head. "Perhaps a year ago, the Mazarite government was under scrutiny from the Vulcan High Command. They removed several corrupt leaders and officials and began a new order. That order has yet to work here, I suppose."

Eponine sighed. "It's the same everywhere, Earth, Vulcan, Mazar..." She shook her head.

"Do not give up hope, Eponine," he said softly, quickening their pace despite his calm words. "That is something I admire about your people...you hold on to hope and change your own fates. There are many more things besides, your tolerance, your creativity, your...wildness..."

He fell silent, and she stared at him, contemplating his words, but she frowned as he continually quickened their pace.

"I thought they were gone."

He shook his head. "They have been following us for the better part of five minutes. You cannot hear them, but I can. They are gaining on us, so I must push our pace. Please do not panic."

She dared not turn around and look back at who he was talking about, if it was still the officers. She assumed so; they had no reason to run from anyone else. Their pace quickened still to a swift walk, then to a run. They darted down side streets and ever narrowing alleyways until they were completely lost in the jungle of the slums, the hounding footsteps always at their backs.

Eponine spotted some garbage disposal cans behind a chain-link fence, and she dove behind it with Yuris in tow. She knelt on the ground, cursing the nearby streetlamp, but quickly decided on a plan. She tore off her shirt and set it aside, then hiked her skirt up to her knees. She made Yuris sit on his bottom, then straddled him, settling her skirt around them so the absence of activity going on beneath her clothes would be hidden. She began arching into him, tearing at his clothes, and he stared at her incredulously. He looked shocked.

"Eponine, what in the name of Surak-"

"Take off your shirt," she hissed, nipping at his ear. "Make this look convincing. When they see us like this, they'll go away. I think. We'll see."

She quickly cast his hair into disarray and continued pressing herself urgently into him, mimicking the dance she wish she didn't know. But if it gave them their freedom...

He was warm, and his skin was soft, and when she pressed her lips to his neck, she heard him gasp.

"Good," she whispered. "Keep it up."

Yuris seemed to catch on quickly and began kissing and licking furiously at her neck, stroking her back and weaving his fingers in her hair. His lips were hot and dry, yet so skilled for one who seemed so innocent. Slowly she felt a tingling throb between her thighs, a surprise to her, as this was only a rouse and he knew that. He was very good at this...

His lips left her feeling breathless despite the severity of the situation, and she moaned, this time for real. He continued on down to her neck, and she pressed herself even harder into him, bucking and writhing slightly, rolling her hips to make it seem as if she were really making love to him, and she pressed his head hard to her neck.

"Just a little bite," she begged, half acting, half hoping. "Please..."

She heard footsteps approach them down the alley, but she simply closed her eyes and lolled her head away from the entrance to the alleyway, giving him a clear shot at her neck. The footsteps came closer, stopped, then retreated, and she moaned loudly as they receded, lingering in the act.

"Do you think they recognized you?" she breathed, kissing his forehead in case they were still around.

"No, I believe our way is clear again," he whispered in reply, handing over her shirt. "Please get dressed, Eponine, I do not wish anyone to see you so...exposed."

She shrugged, suddenly feeling uneasy; the strangest thing was that she had actually been enjoying herself, and it had felt so good when he touched her...it was confusing and made going about their business that much more awkward. She avoided his gaze as she straightened herself out and put her shirt back on, and once she was decent, they continued on into the night.

"How much time have we lost?"

"Approximately two hours," he replied evenly. She stared at the dark ground in front of her feet.

"And how far to our destination?"

"Perhaps six miles. We should be there within the set time limit."

How in the world could he be so calm and composed after all of that? How could he act as if nothing had happened when she couldn't even look him in the eye? He had left her frazzled and unmistakably aroused, and she could still feel the moisture dripping down her inner thighs as she thought about it.

_So he can kiss your neck. That's nothing to write home about. It was all a rouse, Eponine, stop thinking about it. _

_Nothing to write home about? _another portion of her retorted, _he makes you feel like your very flesh is on fire. But don't worry, Eponine, he could never feel that way about a criminal like you._

_But he's so kind to me..._

_Marius was kind, but he never looked five seconds at you, only to ask where Cosette lived. You were nothing to him, and you're nothing to Yuris._

_But what about living with me? He's taken me this far, I don't think he feels nothing._

_He probably just feels obligated to help you until he gets some work. You're just a pet project to relieve his boredom, and once he's back on his own two feet, you'll be back on the street before you know it._

Eponine felt hot tears prick her eyes and hastily dashed them away, and she bit her lip to stop new tears from forming.

"Eponine?" His voice was soft and laced with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, monsieur," she croaked, not looking him in the eye. Now she wanted to let go of his hand, but he did not release her. He turned her around and lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"You fear I will abandon you," he said softly, and she frowned, wondering if her fears were written so clearly on her face, or if not, how he could read her so easily when she thought she was good at hiding her thoughts and emotions.

"You fear I care nothing for you," he continued, drawing her a little closer. "Eponine, how could you think that?"

She felt the hot tears sting her eyes again. "You owe me nothing, monsieur. What could I possibly offer you?"

His frown deepened and he drew her still closer. "Eponine, I had hoped that you and I were friends, but if you do not feel that close to me-"

"I want to be your friend," she assured him. "But my future is uncertain. I have spent my life looking only a week ahead at most, looking for the next meal, the next scrap of bread to keep myself and my family alive for another few days. It is a futile existence. You have shown me something else. I fear that life will be taken from me."

"Eponine...you...I appreciate your honesty and your bluntness. Rest assured, you will not starve. I will give you my last scraps of bread before I see you go hungry," he whispered. "You will have the life I have shown you, and so much more, for as long as you want it. We are friends, Eponine, and friends do not let friends starve in the street."

Tears trailed down her face. "I was wrong to doubt you...I'm sorry...life is not...forgive me."

"You have spent too long being hurt by others," he said gently, wiping her tears with his thumb. "Now is my chance to show you that you are worth more than that, and I do not intend to waste that chance. Come, it is twenty minutes to midnight."

She dried her tears and followed him into the night, silently thanking God for his intervention.


	9. The House

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and Yuris), Ahlysha, Caren Rose, and the anon reviewer for reviewing!**_

_V'Zal, Mazar, slums, October 1, 2152_

The night wind whistled around them as they ascended the steps to the landlord's house. They had agreed to act as if they were lovers come here to escape their families' disapproval, and he hooked his arm around hers to connect her physically to his person, to make it seem like they were really in love. He blushed green at the thought, and she too was blushing, but he led her confidently down the hallways towards the landlord's office.

The Mazarite was sipping a putrid-smelling liquid, and he saw Eponine unwittingly wrinkle her nose in disgust at the smell, and he glared at the mug in response to that. He recognized the deep red juice inside: _vweshem_, an acquired taste, and poisonous to Mazarites. It was also a highly addictive substance, explaining why they drank the disgusting stuff, and he knew from his crash course in Mazarite society that poorer neighborhoods had _vweshem _houses, where they served it instead of alcohol. On Mazar, alcohol was a luxury of the rich.

"So," the middle-aged Mazarite said with a cheeky grin, "this is the Vulcan. And a human." He looked over Eponine with an appraising gaze, and Yuris stepped in front of her, directing the man's attention back to him.

"We don't get many of your kind around here," the man continued, looking at both of them now. "So I suppose you want your key now."

Yuris nodded silently.

"Not the chatty type then? Typical Vulcan..."

"My beloved is tired and she wishes to rest. Here is your down payment." He handed the Mazarite a PADD with the appropriate amount, and the older man raised his eyebrows.

"Everything seems to be in order...you married him, girl?"

She looked to him to answer, and Yuris shook his head. "We are not married yet...we intend to do so when I have work."

The Mazarite shrugged. "I thought Vulcans didn't go for outsiders...though I wouldn't mind trying a human on for size..."

Yuris' expression darkened at the crude innuendo, but Eponine gave him a mocking smile.

"We've got spunk enough to satisfy any man's appetite," she said with a sly grin. The Mazarite smirked. "But really, Zynek is the sweetest man I've ever met," she continued, looking up at him with an adoring gaze. He only wished it was real...

"Charming girl you've got there, Vulcan. And cheeky. I like that."

He walked into the back room and came back with a thin metal stick. "This is your key. You'll have to clean the place a little. I don't take responsibility for your cleaning bill, so you'll have to take care of that yourselves. You two keep it quiet in there, you hear?"

"You won't even know we're here," Eponine retorted with a curtsey. Yuris thought the man's smile actually looked genuine.

"Very charming lady, Vulcan. Good night."

Yuris led her to their house down a narrow street, and he unlocked the front door and turned on the lights. They flickered on, and he frowned in displeasure at all the dust.

"Well," Eponine said, strolling around in the dusty living room. "This is rather nice! Needs a little cleaning, but I've lived in far worse places."

Yuris sniffed in disapproval. "We will clean it as soon as possible. But now...you need your rest. Come, let us survey the rest of this house."

There was a bedroom with a mattress, but there was also a small room just next door that looked like it was originally intended as a study. It could, however, be converted into a second bedroom, and he fully intended to do that.

He knew the stores on Mazar would not be open at this hour, so he spread a spare robe he had in his pack onto the bed they did have, then made a pillow with a soft cotton bathrobe from her bag.

"Sleep, Eponine," he said, gesturing to the bed. "I know it is crude, but I will provide a proper bed for you tomorrow."

She obeyed and laid down, and he covered her with another robe, then turned off the light. "Good night," he murmured.

"Wait," she said, and he turned back to her. She slipped out of the makeshift bed and walked up to him, staring at him with confused eyes.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek with soft, tender lips, and he closed his eyes, inhaling a waft of her scent that floated to him on the dusty air.

"Good night," she whispered, and she squeezed his shoulder. "And thank you...for this new start."

He nodded and closed the door after she crawled back into bed, and he went back to the living room, searching the room and then the kitchen for a broom. He found one (or something like it) in the closet, and he began sweeping, searching for other problems and mentally making a list of the things they needed. The walls were carved with intricate symbols where humans put crown molding, and he thought the place could use a fresh coat of paint. He did not want Eponine living in this second-rate house. The home was small, but it could be cheery with a little more color and a good scrubbing.

He was weary from traveling and the time changes and the chase, but he got to work anyway, surprised to find rags and a bucket in the closet as well. So he cleaned the floors and all the surfaces, continuing with his list, hellbent on getting this place as clean as he could before Eponine awoke in the morning.

…

Eponine awoke and frowned at the odd cloth she was laying on, then took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. She remembered the chase, the landlord, the house...and Yuris, it seemed, had not come to bed with her, or so much as stepped into the room. The door was still closed, but she rose and walked out into the living room, where she saw him glancing over a PADD.

"Breakfast is on the table," he murmured, and she sat down at the table and took a still-warm roll from the bowl he had put them in.

"Take as many as you like," he continued, setting the PADD aside. "I've already eaten."

She moaned around the mouthful of bread; it was warm and buttery and sweet, and she closed her eyes. "_This is heaven_," she murmured to herself as she took another bite.

She noted that, unlike last night, the table was free of dust and dirt, and the floors and the cabinets too. Everything glittered with cleanliness, and as she saw Yuris come back into the kitchen (he had gone into the room she had slept in to fetch his robes), she put down her roll and bounded toward him.

Before she even thought about it, she pulled him into a tight embrace, burying her nose into his chest. She squeezed him, and it didn't escape her notice that his broad and powerful muscles tensed beneath her arms. She squeezed harder, pouring her gratitude and amazement into her embrace, gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline.

"Eponine," he said softly, and she realized she had been hugging him for much too long, and she let him go and reached for her roll.

"This is really good," she said with a grin, holding up the buttery bread. "And this house...did you sleep last night?"

"Vulcans can go several days without sleep, Eponine. I did not require rest last night...I was otherwise occupied."

"With cleaning?"

He nodded, and she looked down at her feet. "You..."

"I did this for you," he murmured, stepping forward a little. "This home is not livable with dust and dirt in it."

She shuffled her feet, feeling the heat of a blush on her face. "You are far too kind, monsieur."

"My name is Yuris."

Eponine looked up at him, but said nothing, staring into his eyes, which looked green today.

"I have an interview in an hour. I am taking the key, and I want you to lock the door. I will return in a little while, hopefully with a job."

He shrugged on his robes and picked up the key and his PADD, then made to leave, but she grabbed his hand before he left. Still holding him still, she stood on tiptoe and lightly pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Good luck," she whispered, "and thank you."

She thought she saw green flushing over his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he was gone before she could examine him further.

…

Yuris hurried through the streets, his mind whirling in confusion and unchaste, undue joy. Eponine had embraced him for almost fourteen seconds for his cleaning job, and had kissed his cheek when he left for this interview. His cheek was still burning where she had kissed it, and just the thought of it was making his ears flush green. He focused on the task ahead and hurried on.

Still, he could not get his mind off of her actions, especially the length of her embrace and the feel of her soft lips pressing to his skin. He knew from various readings that the average human might hug another person for no more than five seconds, unless one party was extremely fond of the other, or if one or both parties were grieving together. There was nothing to grieve, so logically...

He stopped his thoughts in their tracks and focused on his task. This job was his best bet at supporting Eponine and himself, at keeping her happy and healthy. He would not let distraction get in the way of his work, or let all his efforts with Eponine go to waste. He was going to land this job, earn money and make her new life here as pleasant as he possibly could.

Because he was desperately in love with her, and his only goal was to make her happy.

…

"Well, Mr. Zynek, I'm impressed with your record. Degrees in biochemistry, bioengineering, microbiology, chemistry...and at your age? Impressive...your people seem to like overachieving."

Yuris could feel the resentment the director felt towards his people, but it wasn't necessarily directed at him.

"Though, your people did land me this job, so I guess I shouldn't be too harsh. You're hired."

Yuris blinked, then bowed his head. "I accept your offer, and I will serve you to the best of my ability."

"You'd better, or you're not getting paid. This clinic has had enough problems without my workers slacking off. But you're not going to give me that sort of trouble, are you, Vulcan?"

"No."

"Good," the man growled, then his gaze became friendlier. "Your training starts next week. Here's the rules and regulations," he continued, handing him a PADD. "I trust you can read. And your pay is also listed. Any questions, come and see me. Don't be late, or you'll be causing trouble. Understood?"

He nodded and stood, raising the _ta'al_ to the director. "Until next week, Osu. And thank you."

"That's very nice of you to say."

The director didn't look like he was going to say much else, so Yuris bowed his head once more and walked out of the office.

…

V'Lar leaned back in her office chair and stared at the report on the runaway melder and the Earth girl he had kidnapped. Authorities had tried to hunt them, but had lost them in the streets of the ghetto district of the capital. Now their trail was gone, and they had no decent way to find them. She had posted security around that area and in all districts of the capital to find them.

If this was a V'tosh ka'tur with a new human pet, he would be shipped off to Vulcan, and she would recommend the death penalty for his actions. The logical side of her chided her; it was against Surak's principles to take life, and she should not be so eager to deal it out.

If, on the other hand, this melder was one of her kind...he would be set free, at liberty to go where he pleased, and the Earth girl with him if she so chose.

She wanted to meet him so she could make a decision, but in the meantime she would post more security and keep the lookout for this man.


	10. The Renovation

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and your host of characters), Caren Rose, Ahlysha, and maba7x (2 reviews, *squee!) for reviewing! You guys keep the crazy train on the tracks!**_

_V'Zal, commercial district, October 2, 2152_

Yuris watched in amazement as Eponine spun around in the store, seemingly wanting to take in everything at once. Her fingers brushed everything from the Andorian silk curtains to the polished wood desks available for sale. She seemed to like to touch everything, ghost-like caresses, as if she were handling spider silk. It gave him the strangest feeling of gratification to see her so amazed at all the wares for sale.

They picked out sheets, pillows and blankets, new fabric to upholster the kitchen chairs, some comfortable-looking throw pillows, paint, and paint supplies to revitalize their new home. Eponine had chosen a soft white to put on the walls, and he thought he saw tints of blue in it. The bedsheets were also blue, a light creamy shade of it. They were soft and silky, and he supposed she found the color relaxing.

When they got home with their new purchases, they got to work. The mattress and frame were moved to the living room for the time being, plastic was put down, and they washed all the walls before priming and painting them. The walls had turned yellow from age, an ugly color that reminded him of urine. It was refreshing to put up a new coat of paint. While Eponine worked on the bottom trim, he hand-painted the intricate "crown molding", his paint brush moving deftly into all the cracks and crevices.

He briefly paused in his work when he heard her begin to sing. It was a haunting melody, and she had a nice voice. He closed his eyes and listened to her song, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. He saw that she was smiling as she worked, and he was struck once again at how beautiful she was.

She stopped and looked up, and his eyes softened. "That was lovely, Eponine. What is it called?"

She blushed. "I heard it from some English sailors. I don't know the name."

He nodded and went back to work, relishing the moment: revitalizing his new home, with Eponine at his side, the sunlight shining in her hair and making the new white walls glow...

No meditation could match the peace he found in that moment.

…

_V'Zar, slums, October 9, 2152_

Yuris had been working for a week, in training for his new job, and Eponine began to notice a pattern. She noted the time he came home each day, noticed his routine. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so focused on him, or why her thoughts seemed to dwell on him more often. She was overcome with a nervous excitement when she saw 1900 hours approaching. It meant he would be home soon...

He always made himself and her tea when he got home, and they split the work for the evening meal. When he started working, and not just training, he would be working longer hours, leaving the house no later than 0430. She was trying to adjust her sleep cycle so she could at least eat morning meal with him. He was teaching her how to cook, and she was getting rather good. She had to make her own lunch, though she wanted to make his for him as well. He had adamantly refused her, though, and she wasn't sure why. He had said it was a cultural wall they couldn't breach yet, and had left it at that.

Well, maybe she couldn't fix him his lunch, but she could certainly fix him tea. She started the water and got the tea ready in a cup, then laid down on the couch, exhausted from the day of cleaning walls and scrubbing floors.

She felt contented in a way she had never felt before, and a slight smile played over her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

She opened an eye when she heard the door open, and she blinked sleepily as Yuris walked in. She smiled lazily at him and curled up on the couch, as the day outside was chilly.

Suddenly, she was overcome with his scent, yeasty and warm, and masculine. She opened her eyes again and found herself covered in his outer robe, and she sniffed at it appreciatively.

"Your tea in on the counter. I fell asleep..."

"You are fatigued. Rest while I make dinner, Eponine."

She made a noise of agreement, and she blindly captured his hand and squeezed before he could move away. She meant it as a thank-you, a gesture of friendship, as he always pampered her, and seemed to like doing so.

She snuggled down into his robes, nuzzling into the warm scent of him, and she wondered briefly why it brought her so much pleasure to be covered in his smell. She was too tired to think of an answer, so she drifted back to sleep.

…

Yuris froze as she squeezed his hand, a shock of pleasure moving up his spine like a jolt of electricity. It was exhilarating, and he tried to feel for the emotions behind the gesture, but they were fleeting. He did, however, catch a glimpse of deepening admiration and affection for him, so that was most definitely a start.

He didn't miss the way she nuzzled into his robe and sniffed at it, and he felt a primal sensation, a possessive sort of joy. She liked his scent...she found his scent agreeable...it pleased him in a dark way that he knew would be dangerous to explore, a dark part of himself that he worked hard to keep suppressed. Still, it was satisfying to know that she liked the smell of him.

He set about making vegetable soup for dinner, glancing over every once and a while to watch her sleep. She looked so peaceful, so content, and she had her nose buried in his robes in the most endearing way...

The soup was almost ready, and he made her a cup of tea before returning to her side so he could wake her. He knelt down, struck again with her beauty, and he contemplated the sight for a moment.

"Eponine," he said gently, brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw it was him, her smile widened.

"Good evening, Yuris," she said sleepily, and he scooted closer.

"Dinner is almost ready. Do you wish to eat?"

She nodded and stretched; he swallowed thickly at the sight of her legs stretching beneath his robe. For some odd reason, this came across as sensuous to him. It was a lovely sight, though, watching her flex her limbs.

"I made vegetable soup."

"Mm," she purred, running a hand through her hair as she sat up. "_Magnifique_."

She stood and offered him her hand, which he took, and he noted that she brushed her thumb across the back of his knuckles before she let go. He dished up some soup for her, and she sat down at the table.

Their conversation was light, discussing the reading material he had assigned for her that week, and his work at the clinic. It was his last day of training, and after a two-day break, he would start making wages.

"We have been fortunate, you and I," she said. He glanced up at her. "Thank you, monsieur, for everything."

"All that I have is yours," he replied quietly, and she ducked her head into her soup, blushing furiously. He wondered if he had offended her (the thought sickened him), but she did steal glances at him, and they looked like they were...filled with longing, not disgust. He looked to his soup.

"Mm," she said after her last bite. "_Exquis_," she praised, and he allowed himself a tiny smile.

"You say that about everything I cook."

"That's because you're a fine cook, monsieur," she said with a teasing grin. "Truly, you have a great talent for cuisine. I think you should give up medicine and become a chef."

She snapped her napkin at him with a playful grin, and something deep inside him purred. He stopped, surprised that such a thing existed in him...he didn't want to know more about it, but the way Eponine looked at him...

He shook his head and set her about washing dishes while he continued their paint job, and she joined him after a while, taking her place painting near the trim.

…

They worked together for two hours, the space between them only filled with her humming. It had become her habit, since he liked hearing her sing, and she obliged him. She was pleased that he liked her voice. Whatever made him happy...goodness knew he deserved some happiness after all he had done for her. The least she could do was sing for him.

She looked up when she heard him mutter something in another language, presumably Vulcan, and she noticed that his shirt was covered in paint flecks. He excused himself to change into something older, and she continued working, and continued singing.

It wasn't until several minutes after his return that she looked up at him, and when she did, her lips parted. She stared at the tight shirt he had put on, her eyes straying to the ragged hem, then back to the lines of his chest, which weren't very well hidden by his clothes. She gazed transfixed at the broad muscles of his pectorals, at his strong back, all made that much clearer by his movements. She could see his toned arms flexing beneath the material of the shirt, and she didn't even realize that she had been staring so long until she felt something wet dribble down her chin.

She hastily wiped her mouth and got back to work, but every once and a while, she sneaked glances at him and his powerful body. She was getting the dirtiest ideas from watching him, thoughts that were unworthy of someone so loving and gentle. She sighed and focused on her work.

…

Yuris could feel her eyes on him, and he ignored her for a moment, wanting to know why she was staring at him. Her gaze made his skin tingle, and his flesh suddenly felt a little too hot, then too cold. She sent chills down his spine, but he kept working, slowing his pace just a little so he could linger in this moment.

He chanced a glance at her, and she was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The dark thing inside him purred louder, even though he was confused. Was she...salivating? Over the sight of his body. The thing purred still louder, and he felt like something black and slimy was trying to work its way into his throat. He swallowed it back down and focused on his work, though he couldn't help but notice that she was still glancing up at him every few minutes as he worked.

When he lay in bed that evening, he pondered the day, pondered her reactions to him. A simple kiss a week ago, and now she squeezed his hand as a thank-you. And she salivated at the sight of him in a tight shirt...

He shut off the thought, closing down that line of thinking. It was his primary responsibility to see to her health and well-being. She didn't think of him that way, and he shouldn't be encouraging her to think of him in that fashion either.

But if she did think of him that way...

She liked his smell, his natural scent. She liked his cooking, so much that she suggested (albeit playfully) that he should switch professions. She (perhaps) liked the sight of him in a tight shirt as he painted...

He liked her accent, the way she said his name. He liked the way she was starting to tease him over his cooking. He liked her voice, and listening to her talk or sing. He liked the way she snuggled into his robes and inhaled his scent like exotic perfume.

He liked her eyes. If it weren't for the fact that she often broke his gaze after a few minutes, he would probably become lost in them. He liked her body, the slenderness of her limbs, the way she had gained healthy weight. He liked her.

No. He loved her.

He sighed and shut off the thought, relaxing his body in preparation for sleep.


	11. The Capture

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and the usual suspects), Ahlysha, maba7x, and Caren Rose for reviewing!**_

_V'Zar, slums, October 31, 2152_

Eponine slung the bag of trash over her shoulder, closing the door behind her. The dumpster was just down the street, and she would be back before anyone could get in their apartment and steal anything. She wasn't sure what there was in there to steal, certainly not any money. Yuris kept his credit chip on his person at all times, and was more than capable of defending himself in case of a mugging.

She glanced around to make sure no one was watching her, and she slung the garbage into the dumpster, then turned to go.

She gasped when a warm hand pressed her shoulder, and she tensed before relaxing into their arms, her vision fading to black.

…

When she awoke, she found herself on a plush couch, and an older Vulcan woman was sitting beside her, reading a PADD. She noticed that Eponine was waking up, and she frowned at the alien, looking around the room. She was in some sort of office, decorated yet tasteful, as if it belonged to a king or a baron.

She briefly considered cursing at the woman in French, but decided against it.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Vulcan Consulate, in V'Zar, Mazar. Forgive the...unsavory methods of bringing you in. Your...caretaker is wanted on Vulcan, and I need to determine what his intentions towards you are."

"Yuris would never-" She stopped and cursed herself, realizing she had used his real name. She swore under her breath. "He is the kindest man I have ever met, and if you hurt him...I won't stand for it."

…

Yuris had a short work day. He was leaving early due to some local holiday that was coming in the next couple days, the entire facility was shutting down. He had not realized this when he went into work, or he would have let Eponine know. He stopped on the way home and purchases some fresh baked bread, and some botanicals that he knew would be agreeable to her. He had been told by some of the local Mazarites that fireworks and festivities would ensue through the weekend, he was going to mention it to her and see if she wished to participate.

As soon as he walked up the stairs to their home he knew something was wrong. The door was ajar slightly, and there were no lights on in the house. His stomach sank.

Entering quietly he saw a large piece of parchment on the wall. He read the words out loud: _Eponine is in the custody of the Vulcan Consulate._

He frowned and put his bread and flowers on the table. There was only one thing he could do.

Yuris walked out of the small house, locking the door behind him. He spent the extra money he had and hailed a taxi flitter. "To the Vulcan Consulate," he said, then closed his eyes.

When the driver pulled up to the Consulate, Yuris stepped out, straightened his robes and walked up the steps. He went directly to the reception area and spoke to the secretary.

"I am Yuris, son of T'Kal, and I am here to turn myself in on behalf of Eponine Thenardier. She has done nothing wrong. It is me they are looking for."

The secretary tapped at the com and two guards came forward, and Yuris walked with them of his own will.

…

The woman offered her tea, but Eponine refused it, crossing her arms over her chest. She was angry at the old woman for taking her away from Yuris. He was probably getting worried by now; he didn't panic, but he was bound to be concerned for her. However, getting angry at the woman wouldn't do anything for him.

So Eponine began to cry.

"Whatever is the matter, girl?" the woman said, trying to come closer, perhaps comfort her. Eponine shrunk away.

"How could you?" she whimpered. "How could you condemn him? He has committed no crime, he hasn't harmed anyone, and yet you treat him like he's a monster!"

"We'll see," the woman said calmly, and the door opened. Two Vulcan guards stationed themselves on either side of the door, and Yuris came forward.

Eponine rushed to him and embraced him, burying her head into his chest. "Don't take him away from me, madame," she moaned, squeezing him tightly. "He's all I have in this world."

She sniffed and turned to her. "Don't take _mon ange_ away from me." _Don't take my angel. _

Yuris embraced her with tenderness and lifted her chin."I will give you my credit chip, Eponine, and you will be fine. I promise you." The ghost of a smile touched his lips as he stroked her hair, but he looked at the ambassador. "I would ask that you see her to safety, perhaps a better location where she will not have to worry about criminals. I know I am in not position to ask for favors, but since she is blameless, I think it only logical that you aid her."

He looked down at Eponine again. "It will be ok, Eponine." His voice was gentle as he reasurred her, pressing his credit chip into her hands.

"No, monsieur," she whispered, not wanting to believe this was real.

"I won't need it, and there is plenty of money on there for you to begin a new life." He closed his eyes, then slowly releasing her, stepped forward to V'Lar. "I am Yuris, the one you have sought. She is blameless. Please, release her."

V'Lar raised an eyebrow and gestured to the guards. "Take her to the lobby. I'll send word to you in a moment."

Eponine shook her head and clung to Yuris, but he turned to her and released her hold on him. "Go with them, Eponine," he whispered. "Go...you will be all right."

Tears filled her eyes, but she bowed her head and went away with the guards.

…

V'Lar gestured for him to sit, and he did so, looking confused.

"Have you ever melded with her, Yuris of Shi'Kahr?"

Yuris shook his head no, "I have touched her mind while she was sleeping. When I first found her she was emaciated and suffered post traumatic nightmares, but it was not a meld, a simple guidance to ease her fevered dreams nothing more."

He took a seat as he was directed. "She was raped by multiple men at one point in her life and was...understandably traumatized. I have not harmed her, ambassador, nor have I melded with her to do my bidding. I found her in the Forge near death, and have nursed her back to health."

The doctor looked down at his hands, and a sudden dread of her not thriving with him locked away filled him. He looked up at V'Lar, a sudden defiance filling his heart. "You will see to her, Ambassador. See that she is taken care of and is safe."

"No, Yuris of Shi'Kahr, you will do that."

He frowned. "She has done nothing wrong. If you are implying she will go to prison with me-"

She held up a hand. "She would follow you to prison, or to death, but you are free to go. A V'tosh katur might have attacked me by now, or have gotten angry with me for taking his beloved away."

"She is not-"

"She should be," V'Lar insisted. "She is devoted to you. I could feel it from her from across the room. You should have sensed it by now, but I guess you were blinded by your concern for her. Go...you were never here. I do not know where you live or how you got here. I have never seen you on Mazar. Am I understood?"

Yuris stood up, his eyes wider than before, "I...I...understand." He raised the ta'al to her, "Peace and long life, Ambassador. You will not hear from us again." he bowed to her and then swiftly walked from the office as if she might change her mind.

He made his way from her office not looking at anyone in the eyes. His mind was a tumble with relief and confusion. Those who were after him were claiming him to be a V'tosh katur, a Vulcan without logic as well as a melder. The Ambassador thought that Eponine desired him. He could scoff at both things; they were not true. Eponine saw him as her caregiver, nothing more, but it was enough for him.

…

Eponine was pacing by the time Yuris came out of the ambassador's office, and she turned to him expectantly. He went directly to her. "Eponine..." he said softly. "Come, we are to leave together...I will explain what I know when we are gone."

She could have cried with relief as they went down the steps of the Consulate together. She took his hand and squeezed, and did not let go as they walked together through the darkening streets. He glanced down at their joined hands, and she smiled ruefully.

"We're supposed to be lovers, remember?" she said, caressing his hand with her thumb. "And..." She couldn't finish her sentence. She still felt scared and insecure, even though they were apparently free to go, and holding his hand made her feel safe. And she liked holding his hand. It was so simple, so delightfully simple, walking hand in hand under the deepening twilight. Her face still felt hot from her meltdown, and the cool evening air felt good against her skin.

This felt a little too much like the past. Sure, she had had her run-ins with the law, but she had always managed to get away. And now she realized how deadly the Vulcans could be. She had thought herself a keen lookout, but they had snuck up on her without a single noise. She squeezed his hand harder, then relaxed her grip back to normal. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"I was scared for you," she whispered, not sure what else to say.

Yuris squeezed her hand and pulled her into a hug. "My chosen brother would have aided you, Eponine, and possibly myself too. However, logic has won the day, Eponine, and Ambassador V'Lar is now an ally. She knows the truth." He placed her head on his shoulder and stroked her hair.

"I have brought you some bread; it is fresh just from the oven the way you like it, and I purchased some flowers for your room. The ones you say remind you of the star gazer lily," he whispered into her hair. "So let us return to our home. I will make you food, and we will put this behind us."

She squeezed him. "Not yet," she whispered. The alleyway they were in was empty, and she wanted to linger in this. His scent was swirling in and out of her nose, and she closed her eyes, following its trail from his chest to his neck, and like a hound on the scent of the fox, she trailed her nose around his neck and back again, breathing in his masculine aroma.

She kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger on his warm skin a little longer than was necessary, then took his hand again and walked back to their home. She felt better now, safe and secure, and contented. She wasn't going to be alone; she still had Yuris. She still had her angel.

…

Yuris's cheek felt hot where her lips had been and as "improper" as it was to hold hands the way they were he could not pull his hand away. As they made their way to their home the words V'Lar spoke lingered in his mind. _I can sense her devotion to you clear across the room._ He could, if he let himself, search through their skin contact, but then he would be the monster (at least in his mind) that the Command had accused him of being.

He suddenly felt conflicted. Should he speak to her on this matter or not? If he did, and her feelings were not as V'Lar seemed to think, then he had taken from her the one point of safety she felt she had. If she did feel that way...

He gasped audibly. He looked at her and wondered if she might, really might feel that way about him. If she did, how would he discover it without threatening her security?

He unlocked the door to their home and entered first checking for any disturbances. He then bid her enter.

...

"What would you like to eat this evening, Eponine?" he asked, letting go of her hand and the temptation to search her thoughts.

She sat down at the table. "Give me some of that leftover _bextal_ root, and let's have...you called it stir fry?"

He nodded and handed her the root, and her fingers accidentally brushed his as he handed it to her; she gasped, longing to press into that fleeting sensation, but she moved her hand away out of respect for him. She wasn't even sure if he felt the same way as she did...he saw her as a project, only a friend, nothing more. Just like Marius...he was only doing this out of duty.

_But to turn himself in to save you?_ her brain mocked, and she closed her eyes briefly against the onset of tears as she began chopping the root up. She blinked it away and concentrated on not cutting herself. As if he needed more to worry about.

He added some of the vegetables to the wok-like pan, pouring in some vegetable stock and spices for a nice sauce. He bent and put the bread in the oven to warm it up and when he stood again he came face to face with her. She was holding up the root she just chopped.

She watched him swallow and take the root. "You know, V'Lar said the strangest thing to me, Eponine...She said that she could feel a certain...devotion coming from you, toward me."

"How can I not, monsieur?" she murmured, continuing the same routine on another vegetable. "You saved my life, you cared for me when you could have kicked me out into the street, you brought me here...you say all the time that all you have is mine...and then you give all of it up so I can go free..."

She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and she shook her head, willing herself not to cry. He was the most wonderful, caring person she had ever met; it had taken all this to make her realize how much she cared about him, and now that she had made that discovery, she was worried he wouldn't feel the same way. She would be rejected again, just like Marius had rejected her. He didn't feel that way about her, and it was best to let him go.

Yuris moved forward and caught the tear sliding on her cheek. "I am in love with you, Eponine," he said.

She looked up at him, and he opened his arms wide. "All that I have _is_ yours, and I am here to do what you wish. Without you, I have no logical reason to continue, and yet in saying this now, I do not wish to steal your safety from you. If your devotion does not include that feeling for me, then I will live content in taking care of you for as long as I live...but if it does...Eponine, I would have you as my wife."

She stared at him, speechless for a few moments, and then she jumped out of her chair and into his arms. She didn't even think as she sealed her lips over his and pressed, and her other hand sneaked into his hair and made a gentle fist. She let it go after a moment and wrapped her arms around his neck, and yet she found herself unable to keep her hands in one place. She felt the need to touch him all over, to stroke his strong chest and back, to caress the back of his neck, to cup his cheek, to run her fingers through his hair. The vegetables she was supposed to be chopping laid forgotten as she moved the kiss into something slow and sensual, and even though she was hungry, she was more willing to not eat tonight than have to let him go. She had waited too long for this...dinner could wait.

She felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine when he picked her up and held her closer, and it aroused her to think that he could hold her there with ease. His kiss deepened, and she went willingly, slowing the kiss even further. The sun slipped down below the horizon, and the room started to get dark, but still she kissed him. She didn't know how long they stood there, completely engrossed in each other, but she couldn't bring herself to take her hands off of him.

The fire alarm sounded, and suddenly there was a cloud of smoke enveloping them both. Yuris put her behind him and turned; it was the wok, it and all the food in it had caught fire. He pushed Eponine back to a safe distance and got the fire suppressor out, then fired it at the wok, and it was out quickly.

He walked over and looked at their ruined food, then turned back to Eponine. "Perhaps I should take you out for dinner this evening?" he said, a green flush spreading over his cheeks and nose.

He held out his hand to her. "Eponine, I wish a physical relationship with you, but before we cross that barrier...I will make you my wife, and we will speak on what it means to be with a Vulcan man." He pulled her into his chest and held her. "We must eat this evening. We will get that take out and return here to be together in this new way, where we embrace each other as potential mates."

"I like the sound of that," she whispered, blushing furiously. She should have thought about the food cooking on the stove unit, but he tasted so good...

"That was my fault, Yuris, I'm sorry."

He swiftly kissed her lips. "I am as guilty as you; I did not think about the food either."

"You taste better than any food, _mon ange_," she whispered, kissing his nose. "Take-out sounds very appealing."


	12. The Meld

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon (and every Vulcan man), Ahlysha, Caren Rose, and maba7x for reviewing!**_

_V'Zar, slums, November 3, 2152_

Yuris accepted another batch of slides from one of his Mazarite colleagues, and the man looked him up and down.

"You look...happier."

The Vulcan frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Your eyes...they're bright today. They're never this bright. Before the holiday, you were always so quiet. But I heard you talking with Re'nek the Andorian about his wife. Like you wanted to compare your experiences." The Mazarite smiled. "I'm pleased for you, Vulcan."

Yuris stared at him. "Thank you, I believe, is the correct response. So I thank you for thinking of me. Are you married?"

"No," the man said. "I don't think I'm the marrying type. Less hassle this way."

He shrugged. "Well, I'd best get back to work."

Yuris watched him go back to his station, and he sighed, turning his thoughts from Eponine and back on his work.

…

_V'Zar, slums, November 10, 2152_

_She was wondering through a building, searching for viable entrances and exits; Yuris was here, and she had to warn him, had to tell him that her father's gang was coming to rob the place. He needed to get out, or they would kill him..._

_Suddenly, she was home again, at the window, and it was dark in the room behind her. The streetlight shone through the cloudy panes of glass, and when she stared across the street into the darkness, a jolt of fear ran through her. A hooded man was watching the house, and she could see his red eyes glowing underneath the shadow cast by his cloak. Red eyes watching...always watching...she was frozen, and she couldn't breathe..._

"_Eponine?"_

_She turned, released from the spell, and Yuris was there, his weapon in hand._

"_Do you have need of me?"_

"_There's a man across the street. He has red eyes, and he's watching us."_

_Yuris shook his head. "Come and rest, ashaya. It's just a dream."_

_The fear that had gripped her a moment ago was gone, and she felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This was just a dream, and she knew it now. Rarely could she manipulate what went on in her nightly visions, but she had the sudden urge to try now._

_Yuris led her back to her room, and she laid down, staring up at him with a curious gaze. He was setting himself up to take the night watch again, but she sat up and took his hand._

"_Lay with me," she whispered. He stared at her, then dropped his weapon on the floor and crawled into bed beside her. She laid down, burrowing down beneath the covers, and he laid beside her._

"_Like this?" he asked, and she grinned, scooting closer._

"_Kiss me," she breathed, tilting her head to make such a thing possible. He leaned forward, obeying her request, and she was surprised to find the dream felt very real. She could feel the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips, and she stroked up his arm, her nails grazing over the soft cloth of his night clothes._

"_I wish you weren't wearing a shirt," she sighed, kissing up towards his ear. Yuris groaned._

"_Eponine, I have to go."_

"_Why, my love?" she said, gripping his arm. "I want you to stay."_

"_Eponine, I want to stay, but I must go. Even in a dream..."_

_She felt a jolt of arousal pulse through her core. "But it's only a dream, right? It's not real life. We can do whatever we wish here."_

"_No," he whispered. "I promise I will elucidate when you wake, but believe me when I say that if we begin such...activities, even in here...you will be trapped with me, and I will never let you go."_

She awoke suddenly with a gasp, and she saw Yuris leaning over her, his warm fingers pressed to her temple.

"Forgive me," he said gently, removing his hand. "You surprised me."

She reached up and cupped his cheek. "You will not lay with me tonight?" she asked in a small voice, sounding like a child.

"No," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "You must rest, Eponine. And I dare not trust myself to lay beside you and not...touch what is not mine."

"Yet," she countered, and a green flush spread over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"Oh, Yuris," she said softly, kissing his lips. "You are more honorable than all the men I have ever met...save Dr. Strom. He was kind."

"He is my chosen brother. He sent an encrypted message to me last night. He will be visiting us soon. Oratt, who was my superior as well as his, is sending him to Mazar to aide the Inter-species Medical doctors living here. It is a temporary assignment, and only for two weeks. I offered to let him stay with us, but he'll be staying at the Consulate."

"He won't be far, then. We can still have him over for dinner," she suggested, stroking his face.

"Eponine," he breathed, pressing his hand over hers. "Don't. You are not properly dressed, and your hair..."

Her eyes widened. "I...I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize. It is my own shortcomings, my own base nature that is to blame, not you. Go to sleep, _ashaya_, and I will wake you in the morning."

She sighed and kissed him one more time, then laid down, blinking sleepily before drifting back into the darkness.

…

Eponine awoke to soft knocking at her door, and she groaned, sitting up. "Come in," she called, and when Yuris entered with a tray of steaming plomeek broth and tea, she felt a pang of guilt.

"I should not have been so...promiscuous last night. We're not even married, and I ask you to lay with me in bed...that was very wrong of me, monsieur. I apologize."

He set the tray on her lap and sat next to her, brushing a stray hair out of her face. "There is no need to feel guilty. I know from my guidance in your dreams that it is simply...your inner desires. We cannot help what we desire. We can control ourselves, but it was a dream, and you wanted to explore. Why should I blame you, or judge you?" A flush of green spread over his cheeks. "I have often imagined similar situations, which is why I must explain something very private to you."

She was sipping her tea when he said that, and she set it aside, looking at him expectantly.

"You must never speak of this to anyone, Eponine. It is...shameful...we all must endure it, every Vulcan male about my age and older...and some of our females have been saddled with this burden as well...and now that I must tell you, I fear you will leave me."

"Why would I leave you, Yuris?" she whispered, reaching out and cupping his cheek.

A green flush spread over his cheeks, and colored the tips of his ears a grassy hue, and she smiled sympathetically to him. "What is it, Yuris?"

"_Pon farr_," he replied quietly, and she frowned.

"I don't understand."

"It is a...neurological imbalance. The chemistry of our brains becomes altered, and what results is agonizing fever and-"

Eponine cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Yuris, you might as well be speaking Vulcan to me. I don't understand. Could you show me?"

He frowned this time. "What do you mean?"

"You said melds are transfers of information and memories. Could you show me? Not only would I learn about...whatever this is...you could show me all that you are. I've been curious about this ever since you said you guide me in your dreams. I want to know everything you can do."

He flushed green again, but she insisted, raising his hand to her face.

"Show me, Yuris," she demanded. "Show me what this is."

He stared at her for a long minute, then bowed his head and nodded. "As you wish. You may want to brace yourself. From my experience, the first meld can be...overwhelming."

He placed his thumb at her chin, his forefinger at the top of her cheek and his middle finger at her temple, then closed his eyes.

Like a dream, she was sucked down into darkness, and she was no longer herself...

_She could feel his presence behind her, the emotions pouring from his very soul, and her heart clenched in pity for him. She led him down the dim hallway to her room, the torchlight casting a warm glow over the darkened corridors. There was no chance of anyone hearing them, as the walls in this sacred place were thick, built long ago just for this purpose._

_She stepped aside for him to enter first, and she noted the sweat beading at his forehead. He had waited too long before coming here, and he was so young, so youthful. It was most likely his first time, and she touched her fingers to his, letting him know that his shame was illogical. She could feel from his touch what he was, and she reached for the clasp of her robe._

_She was bare before him, and she allowed him to look at her. Her body was a clean canvas, the bite marks from the last time wiped from her by means of a dermal regenerator. He was fading fast, and his sweat was dripping down his face now._

"_Remove thy clothes, Yuris of Shi'Kahr," she said gently. "It is time."_

_He obeyed, and pounced on her. She was prepared, and they landed softly on the bed before he plunged his length into her. She could feel him, hot and thick and long between her legs, and the heat of his body warmed her core. She allowed a little of her guard down when she felt a surge of concern from him, letting him know that she was not injured, that she was not disgusted, that she would not run. His life was in her hands now, and she would take good care of it._

_For hours, he pounded into her, his heat cloying, his prowess and power impressive for one so young. She knew his occupation to be in the medical sciences, and she supposed he read about intimacy before being sucked into the situation at hand._

_Hours turned into days, and she did not allow herself to move. She only lifted her hips for the proper angle and let him do the rest. She was not ashamed when surges of arousal pulsed through her at his bites, or when he kissed her heated flesh, or when he moaned her name..._

_All through the night, he rode her, holding her down by the wrists, as if fearful that she might run, and she cried out in pleasure when he bit down at her shoulder-_

"Stop!" she gasped, and he pulled away, looking completely ashamed of himself. "Stop, _mon ange_, or I will show you-"

She was cut off by a knock at the door, and he made to go answer, as if eager to be away from her, but she pulled him back. Her lips sealed neatly over his; she could still feel an echo of his length inside her, moving like a well-oiled machine, and she allowed this feeling to translate into her kiss. The knocks became insistent, and she finally released him.

"Do not tempt me, monsieur," she murmured, stroking his hair, "or I will show you human fever."

His eyes darkened, but the knocks were loud. He ran out of the room to answer the door, and she closed the door behind him so she could get dressed. She sipped the now-cold tea on the bedside table and contemplated the situation.

She was still dizzy, and his prediction that she might become overwhelmed was true. She was so absorbed in that woman's memories...she could still feel him in her arms, still feel the ache between her legs from his powerful strokes, his heat covering her...

She heard voices in the other room and finally got dressed, hurrying so their visitor wouldn't get the idea that she was lazy. She took another gulp of the tea and finished the broth, then gathered her dishes so she could take them into the kitchen.

She wished the visitor hadn't come. They might have come to an agreement if they hadn't been interrupted, and she might have finally had him as her own. The heat of his meld was still pulsating through her body and through her mind, and the minute he was alone again...

Yuris of Shi'Kahr would no longer be a lonely man.


	13. The Visitor

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter you to Fameanon (and Eponine and Strom) and Ahlysha for reviewing.**_

_V'Zar, slums, November 11, 2152_

Strom knocked on the door to the house, certain that he had gotten the address right. His knock was loud and vigorous, and he wondered if perhaps Eponine and Yuris were both out. But it was early enough in the morning that they shouldn't be anywhere. They were on the run, in hiding from the law, so he doubted they did much more than go to the market.

He knocked again, and he started to doubt himself. Perhaps Yuris was gone to work, and Eponine was not up yet, or perhaps she had been instructed to never answer the door. It would be impolite and improper to barge right in, even if the door was unlocked (which he doubted), and he didn't want to scare Eponine if she was alone.

He knocked vigorously one more time, determined to try back this evening if someone didn't answer this time around, and he had the sudden thought that he might be waking both of them. He knew Yuris would have found a job within a week of arriving, in order to support Eponine and contribute to society in some way, and perhaps they had the day off. The only time he could think of someone lingering in bed was...

His chosen brother was an agreeable man to look at, in Strom's opinion, and he had a very warm and inviting personality, for Vulcans at least. Perhaps they had already taken that step...

When he visited them when they were on Vulcan, Eponine seemed conflicted about something, and she seemed to stare at Yuris a great deal. Their increased contact and restrictions on where they could go might have accelerated what Strom supposed would have happened anyway: Yuris had made Eponine his mate, and they had mated the night before, and now he was lingering in bed with her...or perhaps they were mating again this morning...humans were unpredictable creatures, or maybe she was willing to satiate his brother's appetite...if he had such an appetite...

Strom blushed green at the thought and turned to leave, but he heard footsteps within the house, and he paused on the top step, waiting for someone to answer.

Yuris opened the door, looking a little frazzled, his ears a little green, though his clothes were still straight and didn't look like they had been thrown on. And he was dressed for the day, in the standard suit that his people were fond of for daywear. So he had not disturbed them in extremely intimate matters...so he hoped.

His brother stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, and Strom went back up the steps. "I hope I'm not disturbing you," he said contritely. "I realize I didn't comm ahead, and I apologize. I can come back later if you wish."

Yuris shook his head and gestured for Strom to come inside, then closed and locked the door behind him. He understood the need for security and didn't question his actions, and Yuris invited him to have some morning tea.

"Did you apply for that job I found for you? Were you hired?"

"Yes, to both questions," he answered, making tea. He noted an empty cup next to the sink, and he deduced Yuris had had some tea earlier, and had possibly made some for Eponine as well.

"Where is Eponine?"

"Getting dressed, I'm sure," he replied evenly. "I brought her breakfast."

"That is...thoughtful of you."

"Is that not how one should be when a man wants to make a woman his wife?" Yuris replied, a softness entering his features that Strom had never seen.

"So you two have decided to become bonded?"

"Not yet," Yuris said, handing Strom the tea, "but I do not think she will refuse."

"Rational," Strom praised, sipping his tea. "Brother, your skills in tea-making have increased since I last visited you. What brought this on?"

"I changed my technique a little," he said simply, pouring himself a second cup. "It was only a minor change in the flavors I added, that is all."

"Ah," he replied. He heard footsteps behind him, bare feet, and he turned and bowed his head to Eponine.

"Good morning, Ms. Thenardier," he said kindly, taking another sip of tea. Eponine put some dishes into the sink and kissed Yuris on the cheek.

"_Merci, mon ange_," she whispered, and he let his expression soften at the sight of his brother being doted on by such a young, agreeable woman.

"Would you like some more tea?"

"No," she said, stroking her hand down his arm before letting it drop by her side, "but I'll stay and talk, if you wish."

"Certainly," Yuris said, gesturing to a seat. "Your company is always welcome."

She grinned at him. "You are wonderful," she said as she passed him, stroking his arm again. Strom raised his eyebrows at Yuris, more amused than anything else. Eponine was obviously enamored with his brother, and it lightened his heart to think that they could possibly be bonded by the end of the year.

"Good morning, doctor," she belatedly replied to him as she sat down at the table, resting her chin on her fist as she watched Yuris make tea.

Strom thought she looked unusually distracted, and he leaned towards her, tilting his head.

"Are you all right, Ms. Thenardier?"

"I'm fine," she said absently, still staring at Yuris. "Just thinking."

"Ah," he said, leaning back in his chair. "How are your studies progressing?"

"Quite well, monsieur. Psychology is especially interesting, and criminal justice."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you think you will pursue a career in psychology or criminal justice? Or perhaps both? Those two things do go well together, if you are thinking of taking up a position within security."

She shook her head. "I don't know yet. But I am trying to learn as much as I can."

Yuris sat next to her and sipped his tea. "How is your work progressing, my brother?" he asked.

"The Consulate was more understaffed than I anticipated," Strom replied. "I've called for two more doctors to be sent here on permanent assignment. If I had a choice, I would have hired you, but considering the circumstances..."

"My work at the research clinic is going well. My new colleagues are quiet and do their work efficiently, and no one is aware of my...status on Vulcan."

"Why should they? It is none of their concern what your world thinks criminal. You do good work, and you are a very good doctor."

Yuris sighed and took another sip of tea, and he frowned. "There is one thing that has been...bothering me these last few days. A young girl is often lingering outside the door of the facility, and I think one of my Andorian colleagues saw her inside the facility once. I saw her just yesterday, and she was...agitated."

"How?" Eponine said, leaning forward, her eyes bright with interest.

"She stammered, and she looked very nervous when I spoke with her. She said she was looking for her neighbor to inform him that his mother was sick, but she didn't know his name. I thought it...odd."

Eponine's eyes darkened. "When you found her in the hallway, monsieur...what was she doing?"

"Looking out the window."

Her eyes narrowed. "Looking out of the window, or looking at the window? There is a difference."

Yuris frowned. "I do not understand what you are getting at, Eponine."

"Did she take a strange interest in doors and windows? Was she trying to get into a locked room, as if testing the handle? Did she seem...fidgety, like she wanted to be out of your sight as soon as possible?"

Yuris sighed. "I did not recall specific details."

"Show me what you do remember. I have a bad feeling about this girl."

"Why?" Strom inquired, and Eponine fixed him with a mournful glare.

"Because I was often that girl. If she was paying more attention to windows and exits, and to your security, then I don't think she can be trusted. You might be the victim of a robbery soon."

She sighed and looked at the table. "I recognize that I'm probably jumping to conclusions. But you say her behavior is odd, and I think you're right. For a moment, let's assume I'm wrong, and that this girl was truly lost. Then we go about our business and forget about this entire thing. But what if I'm right?"

Yuris shook his head. "I cannot show you, Eponine. Do not ask me to...it is too soon."

"Show you how?" Strom asked, looking to Eponine. She didn't answer, but looked at her lap.

"Your evidence for convicting this girl seems flawed," Yuris said. "I do not think we should concern ourselves with this."

"Scouting is hard to prove, at least until it's too late to stop the robbery. I know what I'm looking for, if you show me."

"Like I said, it is too soon."

"Why?"

Yuris sighed. "The pressure on your blood vessels can be deadly. On a Vulcan, it would not be so dangerous, but with a human..."

Eponine looked down at her lap again. "If you insist, monsieur."

Strom frowned. "What are we discussing, brother?"

One look gave Strom the answer, and his expression relaxed. "You have melded with her?" He gestured to Eponine. Yuris nodded.

"I think you should show her. She does make a good point, considering that if things are stolen from your workplace, that will disrupt your routine and be problematic for your superiors. If you recognized abnormal behavior before any crimes are committed, then certainly we should inform the authorities and your superiors of any attempts to rob the research facility."

"Strom, I thought you against melding."

He shook his head, casting his eyes downward. "If I am to be your brother, I want to know exactly what it is that makes you an outcast on our world."

Yuris was silent for several minutes, contemplating it, and then he nodded, relenting.

…

Eponine felt his fingers on her face for the second time that day, and she closed her eyes, thinking about what he had shown her earlier, and she felt a rush of heat prick her thighs.

_Eponine_. She heard Yuris' voice in her head, and she frowned. _I am touching you, so we may speak. Please do not contemplate that now, ashaya. I am trying to concentrate._

"Forgive me," she whispered, and he gave her the tiniest caress with his thumb, stroking her chin briefly before putting it back in place. Like before, she was sucked back into the darkness...

_The girl was scrawny, bones poking out of her ribs, and his thoughts went to Eponine in the early days of his care for her. It pained him to see another so destitute and desperate, but he walked up to her, following her gaze to the window._

"_Can I help you?"_

_She turned to him, wide-eyed, then looked down at her rotted shoes. "No, sir, I...my neighbor has a son that works here, and she is injured. So because of that, she asked me to come here..."_

"_What is his name?"_

_She looked up at him. "She did not say. He might be gone, I am not sure...she is old. She might be forgetting things." The girl shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest._

"_Very well. Then I'll ask around, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."_

_She nodded, then turned and hurried from the research facility, and he turned back to go to the lab..._

"She was lying," Eponine said, opening her eyes. "She was uncomfortable. Do Mazarites talk like that? So formal and stiff?"

"When you meet someone you do not know, who is also in a position of importance, it is customary to speak like that. However, I do not see why she would talk to me like that. I assumed she was caught off guard, or else trying to flatter me. That is not uncommon Mazarite behavior."

"Or else she was lying. She was looking out the window, and if she really was looking for her neighbor, she should have been happy to see you, to get assistance. She didn't look like she wanted your help."

Yuris bowed his head. "So you are saying she is a criminal?"

"I'm not accusing her of anything. Like I said, I think she's a scout. She won't be at the robbery, unless they need someone to watch for the law."

Yuris stood. "I'll contact my superior and inform him of this."

Eponine looked to Strom, who looked satisfied, and he nodded to her.

"Good work, Ms. Thenardier."

"I could be completely wrong," she said with a shrug. "I probably am."

"Increased vigilance, especially in troubled times like these, is never unwise."

Yuris came back and sat down with Strom, and the older doctor turned to his colleague. "Do you wish to meld with me, Yuris?"

"I believe the question should be, are you ready? You have been my colleague and my friend for many years. It is acceptable for us to meld, to share thoughts. Will you allow me?"

Strom stared into Yuris' eyes, then nodded, relaxing with a deep breath.

Eponine leaned back and closed her eyes, somehow knowing the importance of the moment, and she wasn't surprised to find tears streaming down her face.

Another Vulcan had found the truth.


	14. The Disease

**_Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon and Ahlysha for reviewing._**

_V'Zar, legislative district, November 22, 2152_

V'Lar stared at the news reports of more consolidations in the Vulcan government, and she sighed to herself. The suppression of descent was even more pressing than a year ago, and it seemed V'Las' reign would not be a pleasant one. Melders were going into hiding, the truth about them and Pan'ar Syndrome was left unspoken (or else the majority of the population, swindled by V'Las' lies, had closed their ears to the truth), and although the crises between Vulcan and Andoria had been averted, she could still sense some great change on the horizon, whether that be war or peace. She did not know.

And even more confounding was the role these humans were to play in all this. Capricious, unpredictable...she felt she had some understanding of Andorians and their motives, but humans seemed to define every textbook definition of what a species should do. Though she didn't let the puzzle of humanity keep her up at night (she left that honor to Soval), she did contemplate them more often now, ever since meeting Eponine Thenardier.

But more pressing than humanity and their place in the galaxy was the tension brewing on this world. The new IME personnel assigned to the Embassy were doing well, but one had nearly been attacked two days ago. V'Lar was aware that sickness had spread among the masses, and that some Mazarites were blaming the Vulcans for not lending more assistance, but if the Mazarites wanted independence and autonomy in their government, they had to accept the responsibility of handling their own problems, whether that be natural disasters, civil war or disease. The Vulcans had already given plenty of medical supplies to the Mazarite government, but as far as V'Lar could see, it hadn't taken effect yet.

She sighed and picked up the report on the disease that had spread through the capital and other cities on the planet, and she shook her head and hoped a better solution came along soon, however illogical the notion was.

…

_V'Zar, slums, December 2, 2152_

Yuris hung up his outer robes on the rack next to the entrance and closed the door to the steady downpour outside. The chill that had permeated the capital for the last two months had finally descended into the first frosts of winter and cold, heavy rains. The cold seemed to cling to him even in his office, but he bore it with a brave face, knowing that V'Lar had risked much to give them protection here, and that although Mazar was dangerous, his work provided good pay, a salary he needed in order to support Eponine.

He felt her arms wrap around him as he let go of the robes, and he froze, standing stock still as her nose pressed lightly into the top of his spine. He was amazed at how such a simple touch could melt away any frost and make him feel surrounded by comforting heat. He closed his eyes, relaxing as her hand stroked up his chest, teasingly brushing the clasps of his suit.

"Eponine," he chided gently, stiffening further as her nose moved from his spine to his neck. She kissed him, her lips ghosting over his flesh like a feather, her breath making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Eponine," he repeated, the volume of his voice lowering, his tone roughening.

"I was worried," she explained simply, her voice cracking with emotion. "I read on the news report that more Vulcans have been attacked."

"Yes," he acknowledged. "But they all work at the Embassy, and we are far from there. Most Mazarites I see on the street do not even notice my presence, much less protest against it."

"And your brother?"

"I spoke with him yesterday, and he says he has been fortunate. The Vulcans rarely leave the Embassy now, as a safety precaution."

She squeezed him tighter, and to his bemusement, her worry seemed to increase.

"Eponine, what worries you? All of the Vulcans at the Embassy are working to find a cure, and even my workplace has been called upon to search for a cure. We are working on a solution."

"While more people die of disease every day," she retorted. "And now you are the only Vulcan on the streets. Can you see why I am worried?"

"I am capable of defending myself."

"You shouldn't have to defend yourself at all," she pressed, her fist clutching tightly to the front of his robes. For some strange reason, this made his blood seem to simmer...

"I know," he conceded, his voice becoming gentle. "I will do my best to keep myself safe. How can I keep my Eponine safe if I myself am incapacitated?"

The fistful of fabric she was making tightened, and she pressed her body fully to his back and rear, and the heat of his blood raised a notch. He thought it fascinating how easily her worry turned to passion, how the fervor of her emotions, her concern for him, was making his blood heat faster than ever before.

"I love you, Yuris," she whispered earnestly, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Memories of their escape from the transport station, her illogical plan to throw off the guards...even then, his blood did not heat this quickly, nor was the urge so strong to take and take until there was nothing left to consume. He turned around in her arms, letting her fingers trace lazily over his spine, and he kissed her of his own accord. He rarely attempted this for fear of offending her, but her eager reception was all the assurance he needed. He held her close, wrapping his arms protectively around her until his hold was almost possessive. Her petal-soft lips were warm, her kiss fervant, and the emotions bleeding through her skin as she cupped his cheek made his head swim. He kissed her harder, not sure what was inspiring such an instinctive and primal reaction to her, but she embraced the change in the kiss and replied accordingly.

The chill that had clung to him all day had melted in favor of a cloying heat, fed by her taciturn emotions and broiling passions. Perhaps feverish passions were the same for humans as for Vulcans; he had heard that if a Vulcan man mated often with his wife, the fever would not be as intense, and perhaps even be enjoyable for both parties. The norm was to mate as seldom as possible, but in exchange, seven years worth of passion came flooding out in the space of a few days. So perhaps her desire to mate with him, to touch and taste and be joined, was growing stronger, and unless he let it out in small doses, he would find himself with a very sexually aggressive Eponine...

He was ashamed that he found that thought so agreeable, and the notion crossed his mind that he might already have a very sexually aggressive Eponine on his hands. The way she kissed, the way she touched, the way she pressed herself to him as if she wanted to crawl inside him, all boiled his blood and made his pants feel strangely tight.

The sensation did not disgust her, but rather spurred her on, and she was pressing herself to him, grinding on him, and he was slave to it, falling deeper and deeper into the passions that plagued his blood, his entire race...

"Eponine," he growled, trembling as she melted into him. Never had he heard such a forceful voice come out of his mouth, and he found he could not decide on a place to put his lips. He delighted in the taste of her mouth, but soon his lips were drifting towards her neck, then lower on her collar, then trailing frantically along her hairline, then back to her lips. And her hands were just as wild and indecisive, touching him in every place she could, much like the first time they had kissed in this place.

"We must stop this," he whispered gently, carefully nibbling on her earlobe. She groaned.

"Or what?"

"Or I will lose control of myself, and I will despise myself forever for having forced your hand."

She slowly pulled away and laid her head on his chest, and even as he calmed himself, he was amazed at how well she fit with his body, like two puzzle pieces made to be connected. He sighed, nuzzling her hair, and he gently kissed her forehead.

"You are my sweetest temptation," he breathed, his voice back to its standard softness. "And I look forward to the day when you are my Eponine not only in name, but in mind and body as well."

…

_V'Zar, slums, December 3, 2152_

Eponine was asleep in her room, and the rain that had started yesterday afternoon was still pounding relentlessly on the roof and windows. Strom accepted Yuris' offering of tea and sipped it, feeling the warm liquid heat his insides, staving off the chill.

"The girl Eponine suspected of scouting your workplace was arrested yesterday, along with a criminal gang after drugs. They apparently intended to sell the drugs to the poor at increased prices and make a tidy profit. The Mazarite Security Force is still investigating."

Yuris sighed and sat down with his own cup of tea, staring somberly into it. "That is unfortunate. I had hoped she was wrong, that the girl was merely lost..."

"There have been several attacks on other medical facilities, and I have seen several of the poor gather outside the Embassy, as if they believe we will simply hand out narcotics."

"The Mazarite government is still trying to establish itself. It does not have the means or the authority to handle this epidemic. If they asked our people for help..."

"Yuris, they asked for autonomy-"

"Autonomy does not exclude the right to ask for assistance!" the younger doctor insisted, and Strom winced.

"You are correct," he admitted. "I was simply expressing my...apprehension that their government would ask for assistance. The Mazarites are a prideful people."

"They are dying, Strom. They are desperate. Winter is coming on, and they need help, so we should offer it."

The older doctor hung his head and silently took a sip of tea. "Let us talk of other things. The ambassador will meet with the Mazarite Council in the morning, and we will see where we stand. How is Eponine?"

He watched as his brother's ears flushed green. "At this rate, she will be my wife by the time winter is over."

Strom was cheered by this news, but it sparked something in his memory. "I do not like to be the bearer of more bad news, but I feel obligated to inform you of something."

Yuris sobered. "Yes?"

"Before I left Vulcan, I heard rumors of a small group who are...very violent against melders. They do not content themselves with shoving Vulcans like you to the fringes of society. When your case was published in Shi'Kahr, they likely heard word of you. They torture, brother, and kill to make their point."

His brother shook his head. "Do you believe they have followed me here?" He looked pensive, as if remembering something. "I will ask Eponine if she has seen anything unusual lately. When I guided her in her dreams, she sometimes seemed uneasy, and I do not believe it had anything to do with her past experiences."

Strom frowned. "In what way?"

"She dreamt once of a man with red eyes, standing guard on the other side of the street," he explained, nodding to the window.

He bowed his head. "I am not sure. But be on your guard. This group would not be agreeable to you attempting to gain her as a mate, or father children by her." He felt his ears get warm.

"Are they xenophobic as well as prejudiced against melders?"

"I do not believe they have a negative opinion of humans in general, but that their vendetta is against melders alone. They do not wish you to...breed."

Yuris swallowed and stared into his tea. "I will put Eponine on her guard. And you, Strom...be careful out there. The Mazarites are the pressing problem, and until we can find a cure for this disease, I fear for all Vulcans living on this planet."

"As do I," Strom admitted, draining his tea. "Oratt has given me a similar warning."

"Is he still...are his thoughts the same?"

"I do not discuss you with him, but I do not believe his thoughts have changed. Which is unfortunate. He is a brilliant physician, and if he could only be more open-minded..."

****"I do not know if there will ever be a day when Oratt will change his views. But as the humans say...there's a first time for everything."


	15. The Riot

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Caren Rose for reviewing.**_

_V'Zar, slums, December 15, 2152_

Strom cursed himself for choosing this hour to visit Yuris, and he took as many bystreets as he could to shake off his pursuers. Thusfar, it wasn't working as well as he had hoped, and he didn't want to fight. It was logical to defend oneself, but fighting multiple opponents was not his forte.

His stride quickened, and their pursuit became heated, and he bolted around the corner of the alleyway into the main street, only to run head-on into a homeless Mazarite, who sneered at him, his brown eyes cold as ice chips.

These few seconds allowed the criminals pursuing him to catch up, and he felt himself pushed up against a wall and restrained. He sighed, immediately analyzing back-up plans, but nothing came to mind as a black hood was shoved over his face.

...

Yuris glanced at the comm as it beeped, and he quickly read the message, frowning at the screen. "They require my assistance down at the clinic," he murmured, striding with purpose towards the door. He had traded his outer robes for a heavy coat and a hat, and he shoved it down over his ears. Eponine was right behind him when he turned around, and he stroked her face with a gentle finger.

"Go back to the fire," he said, smiling ever so slightly at her. She kissed his cheek.

"Be safe," she breathed, and he nodded.

The wind swept his coat open before he secured the last button, and he hurried through the cold, glancing around at the bleak city block. A few fires were burning on street corners, attracting the sick and homeless. He pulled his hat lower over his ears and hurried on, wishing he could help these people.

The door to the clinic was unlocked when he reached it, and he pushed open the door, frowning in confusion and apprehension. Perhaps they had been robbed, and the authorities were waiting inside, along with his Mazarite superior. He hoped that was the case...

He closed the door behind him and walked through the dimly lit foyer, walking towards the lit office at the end of the hall. The silence was so heavy he could have waded through it, and he felt himself stiffen in anticipation of attack.

Yuris pushed open the door to the office, flooding the hallway with light, and he paused when an energy weapon was pressed into the back of his head.

"One move, Vulcan, and you're dead."

He froze, noting now that behind the large desk, his superior lay, a gash on his head oozing blood onto the floor.

"Will you allow me to go to him?"

"And do what? Help him?"

"That is precisely what I plan to do. He is your kinsman, your own species. Will you not allow me to examine his wound?"

"He'll live," the man with the phaser said coldly. "And he knew you'd come. Only useful thing he gave us."

"Us?" Yuris inquired lightly.

The man laughed. "There's more of us outside, Vulcan. Now please don't make this harder than it needs to be. Move it."

Three more men with weapons entered and pointed their phasers at him, but he turned when his superior stirred.

"I'm sorry, Yuris," the man wheezed. "They said...my family..."

"It is all right, Osu. May I suggest you put something on that wound to stop the bleeding? Do not attempt to stand. If I get out of this, I will return and take you to the hospital."

"I can't afford..."

"The Embassy, then. You will not die, Osu...not as long as I can help you."

One of the men winced, glancing uncertainly at his fallen superior, but the first man shoved him out of the door, bringing his attention sharply back to the matter at hand. He noted another one of the guards looked uneasy, but the two were outnumbered once they got outside. A hood was roughly shoved over his eyes, and he sighed, listening intently for clues that might help him escape.

…

Eponine knew that Yuris had warned her against going outside, but the news feed was reporting a riot near the Embassy, only a few miles from the clinic where he worked. The rioters were feeding live footage to the news broadcasters, and what she saw on the raised platform they had built made her heart clench.

Strom was blindfolded, made to kneel in front of the furious crowd, and they had a weapon pointed at his head.

Eponine ran to the door, pulling on a coat, and she closed the door behind her before running off towards the location of the riot. Authorities were being overpowered by the sheer numbers of discontented citizens, and she wondered briefly if a situation like this had occurred so many years ago, in France, on Rue San Dennis...

She shook her head of her reverie and crept into an adjacent alleyway, grateful for her newfound skill of memorizing maps. Yuris had provided her with one of V'Zar a few days after they had settled into their apartment, and it was proving quite useful. Unfortunately, their numbers were so many that they could afford to post guards on every entrance to the square they had taken over. A man with a phaser was standing watch at the end of the alleyway, but as night was coming on, she had the advantage. Light was pouring into his end of the alley, forcing him to peer into the darkness. An elementary mistake, one she had learned the hard way. She touched the scar beneath her right ear in remembrance of her father's wrath, then crept silently closer, calming her racing heart with a few steadying breaths.

A loud voice echoed into the backstreet, and the guard turned around. She couldn't see his face, due to the fact that he had on a hood that cast his visage into shadow and a mask that covered what the hood could not, but she smiled in the darkness, quickly coming up with a plan. She had to get his weapon from him, and his hood...she wasn't strong, but she wasn't stupid, either. If hysteria didn't work, her figure would do the trick. If not, she was dead.

His momentary distraction was all she needed to creep closer, and she slid behind a crate as he turned back to his duty. The voice was listing all of Mazar's grievances, and it seemed this sickness had spread to every province on the continent. God save them all.

Her foot touched a loose brick, and she stared down at it, contemplating her next move. Maybe hysteria and seduction weren't needed.

The guard turned around again, and she leaped forward, swinging her crude weapon into the back of his head. He jerked forward and turned, but she grabbed his phaser before he could use it against her. Long years of being a lookout had endowed her with quick reflexes and street smarts, and she knocked his head in one more time, smiling as he crumpled to the ground.

She quickly checked to see that he was still breathing, and upon confirmation that he was still alive, she stole his cloak, mask and phaser. She slipped into the crowd.

…

Yuris winced as his knees slammed into the moldy, splintering wood, and he gasped as the light of flaring lamps and flickering streetlights hit his eyes. His captures threw aside the hood blindfold, and the young doctor sighed as he saw his brother beside him, his nose gushing green blood.

"Strom," he said, examining his brother for any serious injuries. He noted several bruises and lacerations, but nothing that couldn't be healed by dermal regenerator. "Are you all right?"

"I am, for the most part, uninjured. You?"

"I am uninjured as well. However, my superior was severely wounded on my behalf...if we escape..."

"We will take him to the Embassy. I am pleased he is such a man that took injuries for you."

"They threatened to kill his family, or something similarly heinous...and that made him yield."

"Shut your mouth, Vulcan," the guard growled, whacking him in the back of his head with a weapon. He fell silent.

…

Eponine directed her steps towards the stage, keeping an eye on the rioters who had weapons. They were stationed at regular intervals around the stage, and besides the guards at the entrances, it seemed there were little to no armed rebels patrolling the crowd. The only problem would be getting onto the stage.

However, many of the rioters were backing away from her, yielding to her path, and she took the opportunity to play the part. When people didn't move, she shoved them out the way, secretly wincing at the sight of them, ribs poking out of their sides, gaunt faces, sunken eyes...she saw a reflection of herself in every desperate visage, and she longed for an answer to their troubles. Surely years into the future, society could have come up with a way to end hunger and poverty. Perhaps not. After all, she had seen firsthand the prejudices of one of the most advanced societies in the galaxy.

She turned off her philosophical musings and turned her attention back to the problem at hand, but it seemed her foresight was paying off. She approached the stage from the back, and she was admitted immediately by other masked rioters, and she nodded quickly to them before slipping onto the stage.

…

The guard was distracted by the leader's speech, and Yuris turned to Strom again.

"Brother, it has been a privilege and an honor working with you."

"The same can be said for me. You are a good man, Yuris...what about Ms. Thenardier?"

"She is smart," he rationalized, though in reality, she was his main concern now. No doubt she was transfixed on the news, or perhaps begging for help at the Embassy...either way, it would probably be too late. "She will find a way to take care of herself. V'Lar will assist her, if need be."

"Why, thank you for the compliment, _mon cherie_," a familiar voice whispered in his ear. His posture stiffened, and he closed his eyes.

"_Ashaya_, what are you doing here?"

"Saving you both," she murmured, cutting his bonds. "I can't stay long. But when you see the diversion, get out of here. We'll meet back at our home."

She paused. "_Mon Dieu_, I forgot to lock the door..."

"No matter," he hissed. "Eponine, it is too dangerous."

"I've done much more dangerous things than this, my love." She moved over to Strom and started on him, glancing around at the guards. They were too busy catcalling and cheering at the leader's speech.

She gave Yuris a quick squeeze on the shoulder, slipping the phaser into his hand, and he slipped it up his sleeve, bowing his head. One glance over at Strom confirmed the elder doctor was looking at him with a triumphant stare.

"Who knew?" his brother whispered. "Incredibly useful in a crisis, isn't she?"

"I believe she has always been that way," he said in reply, then fell silent when the guards looked back at him.

Another fifteen minutes passed, with only the leader's rambling voice and the catcalls of the crowd to fill his ears. He listened intently for worried shouts, or an explosion, or something to signal that she had been successful.

And he was rewarded two minutes later.

Several guards on the stage collapsed from energy discharge, and he saw his chance as the riot was thrown into chaos. Screams echoed through the square, and he swiftly dispatched the remaining guards with the phaser. Strom made good use of neuropressure, disabling his opponents with a nerve pinch, and they leaped off the platform into the scattering crowd.

They were jostled and shoved as Yuris led Strom to the nearest exit point, and as shouting erupted behind them, they turned and saw Mazarite authorities, augmented with security from the Embassy, flood onto the scene, nearly causing a stampede. Yuris hurried through the crowd, only pausing to haul fallen passerby to their feet, and it seemed to take a lifetime to reach the adjacent street. He ran, his brother at his side, towards his home, but he stopped after a few moments and changed directions.

"Where are you going?"

"To the clinic. My superior needs help."

Strom sighed, but complied with this change. It only took ten minutes to get to the place, and his superior was blessedly alive, holding onto each breath with stubborn pride. Yuris gently lifted him and continued on their way, coming around another way to the Embassy.

"This is where I leave you, Osu," he said to the man, handing him over to the medical team. Strom gave them orders and paused only to raise the _ta'al_ to him, and Yuris returned it, then slipped into the shadows. Eponine was waiting.

Their door was closed when he came to it, and he tested it, finding it unlocked, and he breathed a sigh of relief as Eponine ran into his arms.

"_Ashaya_," he breathed, stroking her hair. "It is good to see you safe. What did you do?"

"Stole another phaser," she said simply, clinging to him as if afraid she might collapse. He held her up, cupping her flushed cheek, and only when he look around the room did he notice their guest.

"Incredibly impulsive, these humans," V'Lar said, and Yuris bowed his head to her. "Eponine was just informing me of her little adventure today."

"Ambassador, are you sure you are safe here?"

"I am in no danger. You on the other hand, Yuris of Shi'Kahr, are in great peril if you stay here. Dr. Strom is not the only one who knows of those who hunt down our kind. My status is blissfully unknown, but you...you are a public figure now. A price has been secretly placed on your head, and if these men catch you, or her, they will not hesitate to turn you in. A pitiful world we live in when hatred is only abated by the promise of profit."

"What do you propose I do?"

"Move to Earth. Only Ambassador Soval and his staff know of your deviant status, and I do not believe the ambassador one to report you to the High Command."

"I thought the ambassador was against melding."

"He is against the _V'tosh ka'tur_, as we all should be. I believe he will sympathize with your predicament, and in any case, I will be contacting him presently, on a secure channel, of course, to inform him of our plan."

V'Lar handed him a PADD, and he scanned it.

"Hiding in plain sight, I believe the humans say. You'll be in San Francisco, deep in the heart of one of their largest cities, and Eponine should be free to roam where she pleases."

"I'm not going anywhere without him."

"That is not what I meant," the ambassador said testily. "You cannot roam the streets of V'Zar without being mugged, or something much worse. There is much work to do on this planet, and I hope within a few years, it will be as prosperous and safe as Earth. I hope if we meet again, it is under better circumstances. Your transport leaves tomorrow afternoon. I suggest you contact your employer and tell him you'll be leaving."

"He is at the Embassy. He was injured for my sake."

"A good man, then. I will tell him for you."

"Thank you, T'Sai. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life...to you both."


	16. The Bribe

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Fameanon and Caren Rose for reviewing.**_

_Mazar to Vulcana Regar transport, December 17, 2152_

Eponine sighed in relief as the door closed behind them, and she set her luggage by the bed and flopped down onto it.

"Oh, _mon ange_," she whispered, taking his hand as he sat beside her. "It is good to be going home again."

"Indeed, I am pleased to be going somewhere safe. Mazar was far too violent, and I apologize for taking us there."

"No," she assured him, sitting up and cupping his cheek. "We had a good few months there. I have learned so much from you, and I thought the people were rather nice, until the disease began to spread. I hope they find a cure..."

"They will," he said, lightly kissing her palm. "Vulcans are renowned for their diligence and determination."

"Then thank God for the Vulcans," she said kindly, kissing his cheek. "If it's not too much trouble, I'm going to take a shower."

He nodded. "What would you like from the mess hall? They have mostly Mazarite and Vulcan food."

"Whatever you think I will like," she replied, taking off her jacket and unbuttoning her shirt. "I trust your judgment."

His eyes drifted to the work of her fingers, and she blinked, realizing what she was doing. She let her hand drop to her side and waited until he was out the door before taking off her shirt and pants. She set them on the bed and took off the rest of her clothes in the bathroom, and she silently thanked Yuris for his instructions on how to work a sonic shower.

Yuris was only gone a few minutes, returning with food, and she rinsed her hair and wrapped it up in a bun before choosing to let it hang loose. It fell to the middle of her back now, and she thought it might be wise to cut it shorter. Living with a Vulcan, as she was, made her more conscientious of utilitarian choices, like wearing hair shorter to save energy. She liked the idea, and thought it would please Yuris.

"_Mon ange_, do you think I should cut my hair shorter?" she asked, striding out of the bathroom in just her undergarments. He was reading a PADD, but he glanced up at her at her question.

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes lingering on every inch of skin she was exposing to him. He swallowed thickly, his eyes darkening, and he cleared his throat.

"I think it is lovely as it is," he replied softly, almost resolutely staring at her hair.

She froze, blushing furiously and crossing her arms over her chest. "Forgive me...am I making you uncomfortable?"

His eyes darkened further, and silence fell between them as he stared at her, his knuckles turning white with the pressure he was exerting on his eating utensil.

"No," he said, rising to his feet and casting his tongs-like utensil aside. "Not uncomfortable..."

He gently slid his hands up her arms, exploring the planes and grooves of her skin, and with the utmost care, he drew her closer to his body. "Eponine, are you content?"

"Yes, _mon ange_," she whispered. "You are more than I could have ever dreamed. All...well, most of my life has been failure and despair. You give me hope and happiness, and I truly feel great love for you."

"Do you feel enough love to spend the rest of your days with me?" His hands were at her shoulders now, slowly creeping inward, but for what purpose, she wasn't sure.

"Cast away God's blessings? I am not foolish, my love. I know a good thing when I see it." She winked and smiled at him. "I would be blessed beyond measure if I were to spend the rest of my days with you."

His thumbs trailed along her collarbone. "Then, Eponine, my sweet Eponine...would you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Happy tears sprung to her eyes, and she kissed him hard on the mouth, wrapping her arms joyously around him. "Oh, _mon cher_, I would be delighted to be yours!"

"You understand that it will not be easy," he said, his fingers exploring the hollows of her throat, his forehead touching hers. "I am a hunted man, a wanted criminal, and I cannot guarantee your security...though I will do everything in my power to protect you, provide and care for you. Whatever you wish, I will provide."

"I wish to be with you," she murmured against his lips.

"And then there is my fever to contemplate. Are you certain you-"

She cut him off with a kiss. "You are worth any pain doled out to me. I know, my love, that you were sent to me from heaven, and I thank God every day that you are here with me...my Yuris."

He wiped the joyful tears from her cheeks and kissed her, rubbing his hands boldly down her back, and she melted into him, caressing his cheek.

"Brace yourself," he whispered in her ear as he nibbled at her earlobe. "This might be...overwhelming."

He placed his hands at her throat, cupping her face with tenderness and gentleness, and she closed her eyes as she felt his presence in her mind once again. But this was deeper, stronger. After melding with him, she had felt a certain closeness to him, but this went far beyond closeness. She knew his heartbeat as she knew her own, and his presence slid into an empty place she didn't even know existed until he filled it.

But he went still further, even as she thought he might retreat, and the warmth and the light of his presence blinded her, and she pressed herself relentlessly into his body, holding on as if letting go would send her into an abyss.

"Yuris," she moaned, collapsing into him as he finally dropped his hands. "I can still feel you...in my head..."

"Yes," he said, stroking her hair as he held her close. "And there I will remain until one of us is dead."

She held on tighter. "So is this Vulcan marriage?"

"Yes, Eponine. You are mine now, my wife, the other half of my _katra_...I believe you humans call it a soul."

"I love you," was all she could think to say. "And I will always love you."

She felt a burst of devotion from somewhere other than herself, and it was obviously from him, blinding her, filling her up with the most delicious sensation of being weightless in his arms.

"What happens now?" she breathed.

"We live and grow together. It is three days to Vulcana Regar. Once there, we will have a few hours to eat, or look around the city, or whatever you wish to do, before our transport leaves for Earth. If you wish to have a proper marriage before we consummate our union..."

"I think I would like that," she said gently, nuzzling his neck. "Oh, I am tired now..."

"Eat, then you may rest at your leisure. I will rest with you, if you wish it."

"I do," she said, kissing his cheek. "And thank you."

"For what am I being thanked, _a'duna_?"

"For being an angel."

…

_San Francisco, Earth, December 24, 2152_

He allowed her to take his hand as they walked down the chilly street, and he wondered at the decorations in almost every storefront. The streets were practically deserted, though there were cabs rolling down the road and a few aircars above them. It was a quiet night, but he could feel a myriad of intense emotions all around him, even from her.

"_Mon Dieu_," she whispered, her voice breathless with excitement as she checked the date on his PADD. "Yuris, it's Réveillon! The night before Christmas!"

"I do not know what that is."

She sighed in childlike contentment and tapped something into his PADD, and she immediately changed course, walking down a side street towards a large building up ahead. He saw the sign in front of it as they approached, and he finally recognized it as one of their temples, a holy place, and the one she was leading him to was very old.

Singing filled his ears as they slipped into the vestibule, and Eponine directed him to a bowl of water by the door. She dipped her fingers into it and touched her forehead, her chest, her left shoulder, then her right shoulder, a cross over her body. Yuris repeated her action and shivered. The water was cold.

The inside of the temple was festooned with greenery and red streamers, and he thought the contrast looked quite pleasing. Gold banners hung from the ceiling, proclaiming peace and joy to humankind, and lights lined almost every window and free surface. Large green trees stood in the corners of the spacious room, also bedecked with lights and red streamers. Everyone was singing a hymn, and Eponine directed him to one of the back benches.

She knelt, and he again imitated her, and for fifteen minutes, he watched her pray, her silence an almost meditative quiet, and when the congregation stood up again, she slipped out into the cold with him again.

"Christmas Eve," she murmured, taking his hand again. "We don't have a tree, but perhaps we can get one next year."

"What kind of tree do you wish?"

"An evergreen. Father always...he always got a cedar from the forest outside Montfermiel. And we would decorate it with candles and streamers and berries and every good thing...and it shone in the inn, and we always found presents underneath the tree come morning."

"It sounds like a very festive holiday."

"Yes, it is," she said with a bittersweet smile. "I am glad to start new traditions with you. I like this city...I think I might like it better than Paris in its own way. It's not very cold here...why, it's not even snowing!"

"Does it often snow on Christmas Eve in Montfermiel and Paris?"

"Most years, yes. And it was always bitter cold. It's not cold here, not tonight. I think I like that better."

He smiled ever so slightly at her, and they finally reached their new residence as the clock on Yuris' PADD turned to 2300 hours. An hour to midnight.

The door led to a spacious living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a bar. The fireplace across from the door was cold and dark, but Yuris found a few logs outside and burned them to warm the chilly night. Fog was rolling in from the Bay, making the night outside much less pleasant. Eponine even found a teapot waiting for them on the stove, and while she made tea, Yuris investigated the rest of the house. It was small, but comfortable, ready with furniture and decorations that, while not to Yuris' tastes, pleased Eponine. She was rather excited about the entire thing, living on Earth, investigating new trends, seeing how things had changed on her home planet.

She handed him a teacup and laid her head on his shoulder as they gazed into the growing fire, and he wrapped an arm around her.

"_Joyeux No__ë__l_," she whispered to him, gripping his chin so she could turn his face towards her. Her kiss began gentle, but soon devolved into a very passionate embrace. His hand tangled in her hair, twisting it around his fist until it was a tumble of messy curls instead of neat and brushed. She returned the favor, threading her fingers into his precise bob and casting it into utter disarray. He looked even more handsome when she did that, and she captured his mouth before he could say another word.

The light from the fireplace cast irregular shadows on the wall, and as the logs burned away, the light became brighter. Eponine lazily glanced at the clock on his PADD as his lips trailed to her neck. 2400. Christmas Day.

"You must be tired," he said, capturing her earlobe even as she yawned. "Where would you like to sleep?"

"Anywhere that's next to you," she mumbled sleepily. "I'm sorry, but it's been a long day."

He took off his shirt and cast it aside, and she swallowed thickly, her tiredness fading away for a moment.

"Eponine, you are fatigued. Come to the couch. Although it is a holiday on your world, I insist you get some sleep."

She didn't have the energy to complain, so she sat down and waited for him to make a decision. He laid down and laid her over his body, then cast a spare blanket over them both.

"Good night, _a'duna_. Until the morning."

"Good night, my love...thank you again...for all this."

…

_Vulcan's Forge, December 23, 2152_

The light of T'Khut made the Forge look eerie, as if it were home to ghosts and demons from old lore. V'Las shivered in the light of Vulcan's sister planet as he weaved his way through tunnels and half-formed passageways to the usual meeting place. But today he did not meet with a superior, nor was the meeting set up at his request. His guest wanted to meet and discuss plans regarding a melder who had slipped through their nets.

The man looked like a still statue in the cold gray light from the heavens, his black cloak and hood covering his face and form. V'Las suppressed another shiver.

"What do you wish to discuss with me?"

A pale hand protruded from the black cloak and threw a PADD at the administrator's feet. He bent and picked it up, raising an eyebrow.

"I see. Though the culprit that allowed him to escape still walks free, the last I heard, he was on Mazar."

The figure shook his head and pointed again to the PADD.

_San Francisco_

"He's gone to live with the humans? Well, what a fitting home for him, then. Illogical, rash infants, the lot of –"

The pale hand protruded again, palm outward, a sign for silence.

"We wish him dead," the figure croaked, his voice gravelly and rough. If _le-matyas _could speak, V'Las imagined they would sound something like that.

"What do you propose?" the administrator countered, intrigued now.

"A price for his disease-riddled corpse," the cloaked man hissed in reply. "I will hunt him with my men."

V'Las looked again to the PADD, and saw a sizable sum written there. He frowned.

"You expect the Vulcan government to fund such a foolish endeav–"

He looked up to speak to the figure again, but the man in the black hood and cloak was gone, nothing but chilling light in the space before him.


End file.
